Welcome to Arkham
by Trumpeteer34
Summary: Jervis Tetch has been sent to Arkham Asylum. What exactly happens in the time between his arrests and his escapes?
1. Would Not, Could Not

I do not own Batman, Commissioner Gordon, Detective Bullock, Jervis Tetch, or any of the other named characters present. They belong to DC Comics. Quotations are from Lewis Carroll's _Alice In Wonderland_. This was written purely for fun.

This takes place right at the end of "Mad as a Hatter" from _Batman: The Animated Series._

* * *

**Chapter One: Would Not, Could Not**

_"…Would not…could not…"_

Detective Bullock turned from the ambulance a Miss Alice Pleasance and a great deal of other people were surrounding. They were all dressed in ridiculous outfits, ranging from a grinning cat to some sort of royal-looking character, decked out in hearts. They all were claiming to have amnesia as to what happened, each and every one of them…

…and a circuitry card was collected from each and every one of them. Bullock's eyes fell to the evidence bag as he pocketed his notebook.

_"…would not…could not…"_

His eyes lifted from the evidence bag and he looked around where he and a number of officers had been called to. His mouth drew back as he frowned deeply, taking in the atmosphere. Wonderland; he was standing in freakin' Wonderland…or that's what it was supposed to be. Red and blue flashing lights colored the area, reflecting off of the plastic statues and covering the fictional world. Some demonic-looking creature had fallen from its place in the air before a tea party. It all seemed childish—

—but there was nothing childish about kidnapping a handful of people, using mind control on them, and sending them after Batman with a thirst for blood.

And all for some girl…

"Sheesh," Bullock sighed to himself. The man behind what could have turned into a bloodbath was a lovesick loon after a girl. It was almost enough to make him gag.

_"…would not…could not…"_

Bullock pocketed his massive hands into his wrinkled trench coat as he turned on his heel. He began strolling up toward where Commissioner Gordon stood talking to a certain caped vigilante: the Batman. He felt himself scowl at the Dark Knight as he approached the two.

"They all claim to remember nothin'," Bullock announced, not much caring if he was interrupting the two. "We collected those cards from each of 'em."

Commissioner Gordon's eyes cut to the oversized man for a single moment. "Thank you, detective," he said starkly. He turned and glanced behind him at the police cruiser, where one Jervis Tetch was handcuffed and seated.

Tetch had been pulled from beneath the statue of the Jabberwock shortly before the Gotham City Police Department arrived on the scene. The Caped Crusader had handcuffed him, though it seemed that the man was far gone and remained motionless. Instead, he had stared down at the ground with unfocused, watery eyes, mumbling the same words to himself, over and over again. He hadn't reacted to anything else; there was no struggle to escape, no struggle against being put in the back of the police cruiser…nothing. He just continued mumbling…mumbling and nothing more.

_"…would not…could not…"_

"We're going to go ahead and transport him to Arkham Asylum," Gordon said at length, still staring at the broken man inside the vehicle. He finally turned and looked at Batman. "We'll meet you over there."

"Another nut, eh?" Bullock remarked roughly, shooting Batman a cold look. "You're certainly fillin' up the place, ain't ya?"

"Detective!" Gordon yelled sharply.

The Dark Knight turned and glared at Bullock. "This man has a name," he said in a low, vicious voice, "and he is being sent to Arkham to be monitored. He is clearly unwell right now."

Bullock snorted a short "harrumph" and turned a scrutinizing eye on Tetch, looking down on him. "Clearly," he grumbled, noticing the man's moving mouth.

Gordon stepped between the two men, his eyes on the vigilante. "Meet you over at Arkham." He remained motionless until Batman finally backed off and began moving to the Batmobile. Gordon turned and shot Bullock an icy glare. "Let's go," he growled callously.

"Sure thing, Commish." Bullock rolled his eyes at the Commissioner's moodiness as he turned to the driver's side of the car. He glanced back down at the criminal in the backseat for only a moment before he threw the car door open.

Jervis barely felt the car shift as the two officers stepped into the vehicle. He felt numb and lost. He wasn't aware of his surroundings or that he was talking. Alice's distraught and saddened eyes were still locked on him, tearing his heart in two and finally breaking his unstable mind. His throat felt tight and he felt sick to his stomach. He only saw Alice, in the arms of that Lizard, staring down at him with such sad and betrayed eyes.

"Would not…could not…" Jervis continued to mumble, his voice sounding strained and choked. He was barely aware that his brow had furrowed as the tears welled up in his eyes again.

"What's 'e goin' on about?" Bullock finally grumbled from the front seat, glancing in the rear-view mirror at the blonde man. They had been driving for a few minutes, and the criminal's words were the only sounds to be heard.

"Let him be, Detective," Gordon said in a tired voice, his eyes remaining fast on the road before them. "We've all had a long night."

"Don't tell me you feel sorry for this nut," Bullock said, eyes shooting to the Commissioner for a moment.

Commissioner Gordon looked over at the oversized detective before he glanced back at the mumbling man in the backseat.

"Commish," Bullock continued in a heated voice, "he brainwashed and kidnapped all those people, not to mention he probably stalked that one blonde chick! He's scum, just like the rest of 'em!"

"He's a different class of criminal, Bullock," Gordon finally said, his eyes still locked on Jervis. "He did commit some serious crimes, but he didn't kill anyone tonight. He didn't even physically harm anyone except for Batman." He paused to look at Bullock. "That's rare among these costumed criminals."

Bullock huffed, looking beyond irritated. "That's the only reason he's goin' to Arkham…he's just another costumed wacko…"

Gordon sighed angrily and looked back out the window, knowing he'd never get Bullock to understand.

"…would not…could not...could not join the dance…"

* * *

Batman and Commissioner Gordon both looked up from their paperwork when one of the orderlies walked into the conference room. They were in a segment of Arkham Asylum that was past the front lobby but before the locked wing where the inmates were held. The two men had been sitting at the table, each of them filling out the forms they were both getting quite accustomed to filling out. The only sound in the air between them was the scratching of their pens until they finished, leaving them in an uncomfortable silence.

"How is he?" Gordon finally asked.

The woman in white remained in the doorway and looked to the clipboard in her arms. "He's not responding to anything," she said at length. "He just keeps repeating those four words. The doctors think he may be going catatonic, but he could just be in a state of shock; nothing can be said for certain as of now. They are going to give him a benzodiazepine injection here pretty soon to get him to sleep and to relieve some anxiety. He'll be placed in solitary confinement until we can get him into a cell. The doctors will check on him again in the morning."

She looked up from the clipboard back to the Commissioner and the vigilante, who stared at her. A hush fell over the room.

"Okay," Gordon said as he pushed his glasses back into place. He grabbed his and Batman's paperwork and held it out for the woman. "Thank you."

The woman nodded as she took the papers. Her eyes lingered on the masked man for a moment longer before she walked out of the room.

Gordon turned to look at Batman. "What do you think?"

The Dark Knight's eyes shifted to the Police Commissioner, but his head remained unmoving. "I don't know," he responded. "He has as much of a chance as anyone else to recover. We'll just have to wait and see what his doctors say."

Gordon pulled back the sleeve of his overcoat and checked the time. "I'll call over here tomorrow about him." He lifted himself from the chair and straightened the lapels of his coat. "I've got a mountain of paperwork on my desk at the office and a daughter at home. I'm sure you have other things to do tonight. There's nothing more we can do here."

Batman stared after Gordon as he stepped from the room before his eyes fell to the table. He had a feeling that tomorrow would be absolute madness for Bruce Wayne, what with all his employees that were kidnapped tonight. He stood and walked toward the doorway. His eyes shifted toward the wing where the inmates were kept, back where Jervis Tetch was now. The meek little scientist he saw only days ago…now locked away in Arkham Asylum.

He breathed a tired sigh and walked off.

* * *

"…would not…could not…"

The Arkham workers walked slowly with the new inmate, who shuffled along mechanically. He put up no struggle when they fingerprinted him or when they changed him into the standard light blue asylum uniform. There had been no shying away from the needle that was plunged into his arm or from the injection of the medication. There was no sign that he was going to try to run away…there was very little sign that he was even present in mind. He was lost. He was broken.

They finally reached the wing set aside strictly for solitary confinement. A guard at the bolted door greeted them. "Is this the Hatter?"

"This is Mr. Tetch, yes," one of the orderlies corrected him.

The guard looked the new inmate up and down with unimpressed eyes before he unlocked the door. "Down here," he said.

He led the group to another door, in which he opened. He stood aside for the others to walk in.

"…wouldnot…couldno…" Jervis mumbled, his words starting to slur together. His eyelids began to droop and his step faltered as the medication began to kick in. The Arkham workers held him steadfast as they led him to the cold mattress.

"Yes, yes…" one of the workers said gently to Jervis. They sat him down. "We'll be back in the morning to check on you, alright?" he explained slowly and deliberately, though he was fairly certain that his words were not being heard.

"…ould no…" Jervis breathed, looking like he was fighting to keep his eyes open.

The two workers left him on the mattress and walked to the door. One of them paused in the doorway and gave him a final gaze. "Welcome to Arkham, Mr. Tetch."

* * *

A/N: So, this is a random idea I had for another multi-chapter thing. This will more than likely follow Jervis Tetch and his time spent in Arkham Asylum between episodes from B:TAS. I already have a lot of ideas. I'm not sure how often I'll update, but I'll say when I'm ending it.

Thanks for reading! Feedback is always welcome!


	2. Welcome to Arkham

I do not own Jervis Tetch (aka the Mad Hatter), Alice Pleasance, her boyfriend Billy, or any of the other named characters present. They belong to DC Comics and _Batman: The Animated Series_. The Jabberwock, the frumious Bandersnatch, Bill the Lizard, the poems, and quotations are from Lewis Carroll's _Alice In Wonderland_. This was written purely for fun.

This takes place the morning after "Mad as a Hatter" from _Batman: The Animated Series._

* * *

**Chapter Two: Welcome to Arkham**

"Release me this instant!"

The Mad Hatter grimaced when the beast's claws sliced through his arm, drawing a hissing breath in. He raised his vorpal blade and swung it at the dark and brooding monster. "Back, you frumious Bandersnatch! Back to the tulgey wood!"

As the monster reared back and howled when the ax in his gloved hands hit home, he shot a look over his shoulder. His eyes shot wide when he saw the fiendish Lizard dragging Alice away from the tea party. She fought against his scaly hands and her blue eyes locked with the Hatter's. "Mr. Hatter, help me!"

'There goes Bill!' the Hatter exclaimed in thought, his brow furrowing in anger. "Unhand her, you Lizard—"

He let out a yelp when the Bandersnatch threw itself against the Hatter's body. The ax slipped from his hands and his oversized hat fell off. He landed on the table, teapots and teacups shattering beneath his form. A painful groan escaped from him when he hit the ground in a rain of broken glass and spilt tea.

With a shaky hand, he began to lift himself. The disoriented feeling lifted immediately when he heard Alice cry out. "Let me go, Lizard! Hatter! Hatter!"

"Alice!" he began to yell, but was cut short when the frumious creature hit him again. He slid beneath the table and out to the other side, out into the open. He sat himself upright and watched with wide eyes as the Bandersnatch loomed dangerously over him. He scooted himself back away from the monster. His fingers brushed up against something, making him turn slightly.

As the beast roared again and raced forward to make its finishing move, the Hatter's fingers wrapped around the stray teapot. He jumped to his feet and smashed the porcelain pot against the monster's head.

The monster fell to the ground, giving the Hatter enough time to retrieve his vorpal blade. He took a quick look over to where Alice continued to struggle against the Lizard, his anger renewing. He returned his enraged eyes to where the frumious Bandersnatch lay on the ground and he raised his ax.

He drew a quick breath when the monster spat something out at him, quickly moving to his left. His eyes followed the substance for a moment before he glared back at the monster. He raised his ax again to—

_"Hatter, look out!!!"_

The Mad Hatter went rigid at Alice's scream. His head whirled around and he looked up over him. His stomach lurched to his throat as his wide eyes locked with the Jabberwock. He felt the ax slip from his hands as he stood there, gaping at the horrific beast.

Alice shrieked when the Jabberwock slammed its clawed hands down on the Mad Hatter. She was hardly aware that the Bandersnatch had gotten away to safety. Her eyes were locked on the Hatter's lifeless body, caught in the claws of the wretched beast.

His eyes began to flutter open weakly when he heard Alice's cries to escape resonate in his mind. He forced himself to look up to the blurry Lizard. His eyes focused immediately when he saw his hat in his scaly hands. "Bill, no!" he cried from beneath the Jabberwock's claws, squirming but unable to escape.

The Lizard's eyes shifted to the Hatter as a sinister grin spread across his face. He pressed Alice against his body and wrapped his arms around her, freeing his hands. Alice continued to struggle, her watery eyes darting from the Lizard to the Hatter, giving him a pleading stare.

The Hatter tried with all his might to desperately escape from the Jabberwock, but his struggles were fruitless. His wide eyes locked with Bill and Alice, only able to watch the horrifying scene unfold.

His eyes widened when he saw the card that read "In this style: 10/6" in the Lizard's scaly hands. His breath caught in his throat as panic began to course through him. He tried to scream, but no words would come. He could only watch helplessly.

With a grin that could easily match the Cheshire Cat's, the Lizard slipped the card behind Alice's ear. "_Jervis!!!"_ She let out a final scream before she fell silent. The Lizard released her and turned her around in his arms, so they were facing each other. Alice looked at him with a blank stare before the scaly fiend pulled her into an embrace.

Jervis's heart tore in two when he saw her arms wrap around his thin body. He had lost…the Lizard had won.

As Billy turned and shot the defeated Hatter a smug look, the Bandersnatch and Jabberwock roared in triumph. Wonderland was theirs…and Alice was the Lizard's…

* * *

Jervis Tetch's eyes shot open with a startled cry, his sore body going rigid. He was covered in a cold sweat and was trembling. He blinked once, the groggy and disoriented feeling finally registering to him. He was lying on his side, his arms and a leg hanging over what felt like a stiff mattress.

His eyes closed again as he brought his hands up to his face. He drew a sharp breath and remained motionless for several moments, his hands resting over his eyes and his fingers on his forehead.

Lord…was all of that just a dream? Some horrible nightmare…? He didn't remember heading home last night…he remembered very little. He recalled leaving Wayne Enterprises with Dr. Cates—

"Oops…" Jervis mumbled. He had used one of his mind-control cards on his supervisor… He couldn't help the small grin that began forming on his face.

He finally removed his hands from his face and pushed himself up into a sitting position. His smile disappeared once he began looking around the room he was now in, almost looking like it was spinning. His body felt heavy, like he had been drugged. His blue eyes moved across the dimly lit room. The walls looked…padded.

"Where on Earth am I?" Jervis breathed to himself, his brow slightly furrowing in confusion. 'Am I still dreaming?' He brought a hand up to his face to rub his eyes, but came to a sudden stop when he saw his arms were covered in a light blue fabric. "What the…?"

He lifted himself to his feet, trying to ignore the lightheaded feeling that nearly made him topple over. He tried to study himself as best as he could, a look of pure bewilderment on his face. Someone had changed his clothes… If he hadn't been so confused, he would have been outraged and insanely embarrassed. He was dressed in a light blue uniform of sorts. On the left side of the shirt, against his chest, was a white tag with a set of numbers printed across.

As he brought his hands up to run across the numbers, he noticed a band around his wrist. He lifted his wrist up closer to his face, his blue eyes scanning the wristband quickly. He read his name, printed "Tetch, Jervis" followed by big bold letters: **ARKHAM ASYLUM.**

"Ar…_Arkham?!"_ Jervis stammered, his eyes widening and his body beginning to tremble in alarm. Panic began to set in; his breathing became shaky and rapid. He began clawing at the wristband, desperate to get it off.

Once he had managed to slip the band around his hand, he threw it to the ground. He took two large steps back from it and didn't let it out of his sight. He stared at it like it was some vile substance, something absolutely offensive and diseased.

When he finally broke his stare, his eyes began darting around the room. No windows…no way of knowing what time it was, how long he had been there…nothing to tell him anything. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest as a blanket of terror covered and wrapped around him. No way out…no way of knowing anything…no control.

His wide eyes suddenly shot to the door, noticing it for the first time. There was a small square hole, light spilling in from whatever was on the other side. He instantly saw that there was no handle, no way of escaping…

…but it was a door, nonetheless. He ran to the threshold and looked out through the hole, blinding himself by the light. "Hello?!" he called, unsure how he managed to find the breath to yell. He pounded his fist against the door, the hollow sound echoing through the room. "Hello?!"

"Quiet in there!" came a harsh call from beyond the door.

He felt a swell of relief overcome him at the sound of another voice. He wasn't alone, at least. "Where am I?!" he demanded to know. "What on Earth is going on—?!"

"I said **quiet!**" the voice snarled, sounding much louder this time. A sharp clank of wood against metal rang out.

Jervis let out a squeak of terror and jumped away from the door as what sounded like a stick beating against the door continued. He stared at the square hole with large, confused, and horrified eyes.

"You're in solitary!" the voice concluded before he slid the cover over the hole, ending the conversation and cutting Jervis off from human contact.

An awful silence filled the padded room, enveloping the trembling blonde's body. Large blue eyes remained fixed on the only way out of this Hell, widened by the thought of how helpless he was, how he had no control over anything that was happening to him. He was vaguely aware that his chest was now heaving rapidly in shallow breaths and his shaky hands nervously wrung together.

His eyes suddenly broke away from the door and darted around to scan every inch of the room. He felt trapped, and it terrified him. The room began to spin around him. No control. No control. No control.

His eyes slammed shut and his fingers shot to the side of his head. He felt himself moving backwards until he felt himself bounce against the padding of the wall. He slid to the ground of his cell and curled into a shaking ball.

"C-Calm down," he whispered frantically to himself in a quivering voice. He forced his eyes open to lock with the ground. "You have to calm down. Collect yourself and think logically. What good will you be if you can't even control yourself?" The advice he gave himself did little good to regulate his breathing, calm his heartbeat, or cease his shaking.

"'How doth the little crocodile improve his shining tail,'" he began shakily, "'and pour the waters of the Nile on every golden scale.'"

If there was one sure way to calm his senses, it was through poetry. He had noticed long ago that whenever he became anxious or even slightly agitated, he'd start quoting the nonsensical poems from his beloved _Alice in Wonderland._ It mattered very little to him that it set him apart from society, striking them as odd. What mattered to him was the tranquility of the words, how it rolled off his tongue with such ease.

He moved on from one poem to the next, his breathing slowly returning to normal the longer he spoke. He finished "_How doth the little crocodile" _and quickly began to recite "_You are old, Father William."_ He focused on each and every word that filled the silent void of the padded room. _"The Walrus and the Carpenter"_ came next, the length of wonderful rhymes calming him further.

The image of the Mock Turtle and the Gryphon popped into his head as he began _"The Lobster Quadrille."_ A little over half-way through the poem, he came to an abrupt halt. The final line of the second stanza resounded in his mind as well as in the air as he repeated it. 'Would not, could not, would not, could not, could not join the dance.'

"…would not…could not…"

A dawning terror engulfed him when he saw Alice staring down at him with sorrowful and betrayed eyes. "Would not…" A sudden queasiness came to his stomach and his breath caught in his throat as it tightened. His eyebrows furrowed deeply as his eyes widened. "…could…not…"

The Hatter… The Batman… the fight… the Jabberwock… _Alice…_

"Alice…" Jervis mumbled, his breath heavy. Another wave of panic overwhelmed him as the tremble returned to his body. _"Alice!"_

He scrambled to his feet and threw himself against the door. "Where's Alice?!" he screamed at the block of metal. He banged his fist against the steel, desperate to be heard. _"Where's Alice?!"_

There came no response from whoever was on the other side of the door.

The deafening silence was too much for him. He pounded his hand against the door until it felt like it could break. _"Alice! Where is Alice?!"_ He couldn't stop the tears that spilt down his face or his voice from cracking. His strength was fleeting; his legs gave out beneath him. He slowly slid down the metal door, still beating his throbbing fist. "For God's sake, answer me! Is Alice alright?! Please!" he screamed as loudly as he could to be heard.

_"Please!"_ he howled again before his fragile mind snapped. Sobs shook him to his very core. He pressed his face against the door, the cold metal contrasting with the warm tears that rolled down his cheeks. His beating on the door slowed as his will vanished. "…please…" he cried softly to himself between quivering breaths. "…please, please, please…"

_Let her be safe._

His lungs expanded as he drew a shaky breath. His eyes slammed shut, but that didn't stop the tears. His bruising hand ran through his hair until his forehead rested against his bicep. His other arm snaked its way between the small opening between where his knees almost met his stomach, wrapping around his violently heaving chest.

"…Alice…" he breathed softly, his closed eyes tightening. He remained at the foot of the door, crouching down and weeping into his arms for what felt like an eternity. The image of Alice staring down at him with those saddened blue eyes before burying her face into that Lizard's shoulder tore at his heart. Alice was the Lizard's…and the Hatter was broken.

* * *

A/N: I hope it's obvious that that first sequence is a dream. ...sad Jervis makes me sad. This chapter was supposed to include so much more, but it was starting to get a little long. More to come soon. Thanks for reading! Feedback is always welcome!


	3. Down the Rabbit Hole

I do not own Jervis Tetch (aka the Mad Hatter), Alice Pleasance, or Batman. They all belong to DC Comics. Dr. Myers belongs to me. All quotations are from Lewis Carroll's _Alice in Wonderland_ and _Through the Looking Glass_. This was written purely for fun.

* * *

**Chapter Three: Down the Rabbit Hole**

Seconds…minutes…hours… He wasn't entirely sure just how long he had remained at the foot of the door, but it felt like centuries to Jervis Tetch. He had finally pried himself away from the metal threshold with some reluctance to sit on the edge of the stiff mattress. He was hardly aware that his hand had begun to swell and bruise darkly; he felt sick…he felt numb.

He had never cried so hard and for so long in his entire life. He was mildly surprised to find himself not being swallowed up and drowned in his tears. "'I wish I hadn't cried so much,'" Jervis mumbled incoherently to himself in a voice hardly above a whisper, his reddened eyes locked on the ground. "'I shall be punished for it now, I suppose, by being drowned in my own tears.'"

He choked down a sob that began creeping up his throat at the thought of Alice wading around in a pool of tears…his Alice…

Blue orbs finally retreated from their gaze on the floor to fall upon the cold and distant wristband across his cell. The bolded letters forming **ARKHAM ASYLUM** seemed to jump out at him, at the ready to attack. He flinched slightly and backed himself away from the offending wristband, moving further onto the mattress. His legs dangled over the sides, his feet a few inches from the ground. His eyes remained fixed on the band, waiting for it to lunge at him.

He had no idea how long he stared at the wristband, holding his breath and just waiting, but it felt like forever. Very slowly, he began to relax, sensing no sort of imminent danger wafting off of the foul piece of plastic.

Hours…minutes…seconds… He wished Time could hear his whispers to speed up until something happened. The eternal solitude was still terrifying, but now it was just downright tiresome. Since the phantom voice had beat against the door who knew how long ago, Jervis had been completely devoid of human contact. His curiosity was beginning to replace just how frightened he was; he wanted answers. He wanted to know why he was here.

He was still hoping that he was dreaming…

"'If you knew Time as well as I do…'" Jervis sighed to himself, his half-closed eyes shifting to the metal door. Cold and lifeless, just as it had been for all of time.

His eyes shot to the wristband again and his breath caught in his throat when a sudden noise sounded, finally breaking the perpetual silence. A confused expression formed on his face when a light engulfed the band accompanied with a loud squeak. He slowly gazed back toward the door to find it was opening. He cringed at the harsh blinding light that glared into the dim room, squinting to see what was happening.

A broad silhouetted figure appeared in the doorway. Jervis may not have been able to see its face, but he could feel the being's eyes burning into him.

"You the Hatter?" came a rough grunt.

Jervis flinched at the voice, opting to simply stare at the large man in the doorway. "…T-Tetch, actually," he replied softly in a meek voice, "Jervis Tetch." He shrunk back into himself slightly when his response was answered by a tense silence. "…but yes, I suppose I am."

"Get up," the man ordered.

The sandy-haired man obeyed and cautiously rose to his feet. His nervous blue eyes followed the man as he entered the cell, a pair of handcuffs in his hands. They slightly widened before lifting to meet with the guard's. "Oh no, those really are not necessary—"

He jumped when the man snarled, almost baring his teeth. He brought his arms up in a submissive manner to allow himself to be handcuffed. 'Is this man a guard or one of the inmates?!' he thought to himself, appalled by the guard's behavior.

As the first of the two metal cuffs was secured around Tetch's wrist, the guard noticed the discolorations on one of his hands. "What happened to your hand?" he barked, making Jervis jump again.

Jervis's eyes drifted from the guard to his swollen hand. "I…" The sound of his own screams and cries resounded in his head, making him shiver. His eyes returned to the guard, who stood waiting impatiently. "…bruised it."

The guard stared down at Tetch with hard eyes before he snapped the other cuff around the bruised limb. Jervis inhaled sharply and winced as pain shot up his arm, sounding like a hiss. He hardly had the cuffs around his wrists before he was jerked toward the door, toward the blinding light and another silhouetted body.

"Let's go."

Jervis's eyes didn't have any time to adjust to the glaring fluorescent lighting. He felt a firm hand on either shoulder, pushing his unwilling body forward. His eyes finally began to focus on his surroundings. He was sure to keep his head as motionless as possible, so not to disturb the two monsters of men by his sides. He felt like he could be crushed between the two beastly men, so helpless and so vulnerable. That subtle feeling of panic he was beginning to grow so accustomed to crept through his body and over his features. Blue eyes darted around for several moments before they fixed themselves on the hallway before him. The white walls hurt his eyes and slowly began to twirl into a spiral, sucking him inwards.

"'Down, down, down…'" he mumbled to himself, raising the attention of both the guards. "'Will this fall _never_ come to an end?'"

The guards exchanged curious glances before looking back down at the trembling man between them. "What the Hell are you going on about? You're not making any sense."

"'Contrariwise,' continued Tweedledee, 'if it was so, it might be; and if it were so, it would be; but as it isn't, it ain't,'" Jervis said in a steady voice. He turned his head ever-so-slightly toward the guard who had spoken, but his eyes remained fixed on the spinning hallway before him. "'That's logic.'"

The guards glanced at each other again. The man to Tetch's left made a face. "Lord, this guy's really off his rocker…" he said over the blonde's incoherent jabbering.

The other man shrugged. "What can you expect? The Bat dragged this one in."

The first guard made a throaty "hrm" sound and let the conversation drop. The only sounds in the air apart from the new inmate's babbling were their heavy footsteps. They walked on, each with a hand firmly placed on the blonde's shoulders. The inmate kept their pace, but he seemed like he was lost in his own little world. A glossy, almost vacant look had appeared in his blue eyes. They were no longer focused on the hallway, but on something the guards or any sane soul couldn't see.

He was talking about a Caterpillar by the time they reached their destination. His chatting came to a quick stop and he jerked slightly, a startled look forming on his face. He blinked and began examining his new surroundings with nervous eyes, appearing to be disturbed that he had zoned out.

A door was opened and he was ushered roughly into the room. This room was nothing like the one he had come out of; the walls were lined with shelves of books and framed documents. A large desk took up a great deal of space on one half of the room; a single chair was placed in the other half, facing the desk.

Sitting at the desk was a raven-haired man who looked to be somewhere in his mid-thirties. He had a sharp chin that was softened by a trim goatee. His bluish-grey eyes lifted from his paperwork when he heard his office door being opened. He rose to his feet to greet the guards and this new inmate, this Jervis Tetch.

This unknown man remained standing as Tetch was forced into the lonely chair facing the desk. The cuffs remained around his wrists, but the guards thankfully left. The office door was shut, the sound reverberating in his mind. He briefly studied the professionally dressed man in front of him who was taking his seat behind the desk and opted to look around the room. His eyes widened and locked on a certain object sitting on the edge of the desk as the man began to speak.

"Hello, Jervis," the raven-haired man began in a friendly tone. "My name is Dr. Myers—"

"'You shouldn't make personal remarks,' Alice said with some severity, 'it's very rude,'" Jervis interrupted the man, his frightened blue eyes still locked on that object on the desk.

Dr. Myers stared at Jervis for a lingering moment, a mild look of confusion appearing over his features. He wrote something down before he folded his hands over his desk and his eyes shifted to study Jervis. "I apologize, Mr. Tetch. Let me begin again. I am Dr. Myers. I am a psychiatrist here at Arkham Asylum." He noticed the blonde man flinch at the asylum name. "Do you know why you are here?"

He glanced over at the psychiatrist for a moment before he looked back to the object. "'The Knave of Hearts, he stole those tarts, and took them quite away,'" Jervis answered meekly.

'The name badge,' Dr. Myers realized… It had both his name and Arkham Asylum printed on it.

"Mr. Tetch," the psychiatrist began again. He flipped the name badge over, bringing the blonde man's nervous and fearful eyes finally up to him. "It appears that you are having a little bit of difficulty communicating."

At this, Jervis gave the doctor a curious look. Difficulty communicating? He was speaking English, wasn't he? His expression slowly fell to that of suspicion. He was making perfect sense; it was the doctor at fault, not he.

"'Nobody asked _your_ opinion,' said Alice," Jervis remarked with clarity. He stared at the dark-haired man across from him with narrowed eyes.

Dr. Myers offered a small smile. "That's true," he said for the sake of keeping the conversation alive, "but it would appear to me that you are only speaking in quotes. A reaction to stress, perhaps?" He paused when Jervis gave him a dubious look. "Here, then, do this for me. Can you tell me your name?"

Jervis's mouth drew back into a skeptical frown. This was ridiculous. Of course he could say his name! Did this man really earn all of the degrees hanging around the room? Knowing he would have to indulge this so-called psychiatrist, he opened his mouth to answer…

His brow furrowed when no words would come. Blue orbs slowly fell as he concentrated. _Jervis Tetch. _Why couldn't he say it…? He knew good and well who he was! _Jervis Tetch! I am Jervis Tetch!_ Why weren't the words forming?! Such a simple question, and he couldn't answer it! That feeling of panic began to course through him again, a tremble shaking his hands. He looked back up at the psychiatrist, his blue eyes widened in fear. _Jervis Tetch!_

"'I—I hardly know, sir,'" Jervis finally said at length in a shaky voice. "'I can't explain _myself_, I'm afraid, sir,' said Alice, 'because I'm not myself, you see.'"

Dear Lord…he _was_ speaking in quotes…

…and he couldn't stop.

He would usually throw in a quote in everyday life, but he was always perfectly capable of speaking normally. It was such a routine for him to quote Lewis Carroll that he hardly noticed he did it at all anymore. It was second nature. He also knew that these quotes would come with more frequency the more anxious he became, but he was still able to communicate without the aid of Carroll's nonsensical poetry. How long had he been speaking like this, though?!

Seeing that the man across from him was becoming increasingly agitated, Dr. Myers spoke. "Mr. Tetch, do you know why you are here?"

Jervis's eyes shot to the man at the desk, his brow fraught with fear and worry. He bit his lower lip to keep his mouth shut.

The psychiatrist removed his hands from their resting place on the desktop and began to shuffle papers around. "You were brought here late last night by Police Commissioner Gordon and the Batman—" Jervis went rigid at the mention of the vigilante "—from Storybook Land. Do you remember?"

The blonde man's head tilted downward a fraction of an inch in a nod. He felt the blood beginning to drain from his face as the doctor continued.

"You kidnapped eight people, Mr. Tetch," Dr. Myers said. "You have been charged with stalking one of them, as well as breaking and entering." Jervis gave him a horrified look, but when he kept his silence, he continued. "Two counts of attempted murder—"

"'I didn't!' the March Hare interrupted in a great hurry!" Jervis exclaimed, no longer able to keep quiet. He leaned forward in the chair and stared at Dr. Myers with large terrified eyes. As much as he didn't want to admit it, he realized that he had kidnapped all of those people. He was even willing to consider the stalking charge with great reluctance, but _attempted murder?! _No!

"Those two gentlemen you ordered to kill themselves," Dr. Myers explained, "on the Gotham Gate Bridge."

"'I deny it!' said the March Hare!" Jervis cried in his own defense. With all that had happened over the course of that night, he had completely forgotten about those two lowly jabberwocks that had tried to rob him and… He did _not_ tell those two brutes to kill themselves! He would _never _order someone to do that! He had said to jump in the river…but _not _from the top of the bridge! No…no, no, no.

"'I deny it,'" the blonde man repeated in a softer tone. He closed his eyes as he brought his cuffed and quivering hands up to his face. He placed his elbows on his knees and leaned forward.

Dr. Myers stared at Jervis for a few lingering moments before he spoke again. "But yes, those are your charges right now. You haven't been to court yet; you're scheduled to go in a few days. Until then, I am here to help you, okay?" The blonde man sat motionless. "We'll talk again when things start to calm down, alright?" All he received was a faint nod. "Very good, then."

A button was pressed on his desk, alerting the guards that the session was over. Jervis allowed his hands to drop from his face, his eyes open again, but he continued to stare down at the tiles on the floor, an apprehensive look on his face. He heard the psychiatrist rise to his feet; he slowly stood. He recognized the thunderous footsteps of the guards as the door was opened. He felt himself shrink between the two monstrous men when they came to stand on either side of him.

Jervis cautiously lifted his blue eyes to Dr. Myers.

The doctor blinked and returned the stare. Jervis almost looked like a small child who had just received a harsh scolding… It was a sad sight. He offered a reassuring smile. "We'll see to it that you get better, Mr. Jervis Tetch," he said genuinely. "We will discuss more when you can communicate properly again."

The guards took this as the end of the session. They each placed a hand on the small man's shoulders, making him jump and tense. That sad look was instantly replaced with fear. His scared blue eyes returned to the ground as he was herded out of the room, leaving Dr. Myers to analyze and record the peculiar encounter.

All those charges…eight counts of kidnapping…stalking…breaking and entering…two attempted murders… Good Lord, what had he done? He had broken a great number of laws…

_…all for her._

He felt his brow furrow at the thought of Alice. He had done everything for Alice. Lord, he loved her with all his heart…he had tried so hard to…to… He shut his eyes to fight back the stinging of the tears that begged to be shed. All for her. He didn't want it to be this way. When this whole fiasco had started, he never saw _this_ as a possible outcome. He had broken laws for her. He had battled the Batman. All for her…

"'Down, down, down…'" he whispered to himself in a shaky voice. "'Will this fall _never_ come to an end?'"

* * *

A/N: So, I think I figured out his crimes correctly, given the episode... First, the eight counts of kidnapping: Alice, the five people on the chess board in Storybook Land (Billy and Dr. Cates are included in that), and then the Walrus and the Carpender. The stalking and breaking and entering charges are kind of...obvious. Haha. And then the two counts of attempted murder: those two thugs were originally considered to be two possible suicide jumpers, but after Batman discovers the mind-control cards on them, I think the charge would have become attempted murder. Just two more lovely charges to add to Jervis's criminal record, I suppose...

For those of you who haven't read my Ventriloquist fanfiction _Friends and Scars_, you are probably unfamilair with Dr. Myers. He was Mr. Wesker's psychiatrist in the story. However, seeing that Mr. Wesker and Scarface are not introduced into _Batman: The Animated Series_ until much later, I decided to use him here.

Thank you so much for reading! Feedback is always welcome!


	4. Sentence First

I do not own Jervis Tetch (aka the Mad Hatter), Alice Pleasance, her boyfriend Billy. I do own Dr. Myers. I do not own any other named character present. They belong to DC Comics. Quotes and poems are from Lewis Carroll's _Alice in Wonderland_. This was written purely for fun.

* * *

**Chapter Four: Sentence First**

Lord, he felt ill. The past week (or from what he could tell, it had been a week; he wasn't sure how much time had passed) had dragged on. His time in solitary confinement was interrupted only by the guards who would haul him off to an unwanted session with Dr. Myers. In the meantime, Jervis Tetch was stuck in silence, only broken by his loose sputtering of Lewis Carroll.

And now, he was sitting between two heavyset guards in a courtroom. If Arkham didn't make him anxious, the court of law certainly did. He hadn't been in a courtroom since he officially became a citizen of the United States. Jervis knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he would be convicted and sentenced. He sat mutely with his eyes locked on his fidgeting hands. He couldn't bring himself to look up at the people, the same people he worked with for his years at Wayne Enterprises, testifying against him, calling him names and making rude accusations. He just sat there and took the attack silently, refusing to allow himself to speak up to defend himself in fear that he would go off on another Carroll tangent in front of the judge. No, he would not…could not have that. He was not mentally ill…he was a perfectly sane man. If he did start speaking in quotes here, they would definitely send him back to Arkham to rot.

He knew he was in trouble when they added "also known as the Mad Hatter" after announcing his name. He had sunk slightly in his chair when the words were spoken. He was not the Mad Hatter. He was just Jervis Tetch…lonely, depressed, and now supposedly-crazy Jervis Tetch.

Jervis let out a quiet sigh, his shoulders slumping in defeat. Depressed, indeed… He had been hoping to see Alice here, but she hadn't appeared. 'She's probably afraid to even come near me…' he thought sadly to himself. The Lizard had come in her place to testify; Jervis had only looked up from his hands to glare at Billy. This…this _boy _ruined everything. He and the Batman ruined everything. If it hadn't been for the both of them, he wouldn't have had to card all of those people…he would have never carded Alice...

"Mr. Tetch!"

Jervis jumped at the rough call of his name. His eyes shot up to the judge to find him and the entire court staring at him. Another pang of nervousness went through him as his eyes slowly moved around the courtroom. He let out a quiet squeak when the guards pulled him to his feet. He finally looked back to the judge—

His fright was instantly replaced with bewilderment when he found himself staring at the King of Hearts, his crown atop his judge's wig. 'This can't be right…' Jervis thought to himself as he continued to stare at the King. His eyes shot to the Queen of Hearts sitting next to him, an unpleasant look on her grumpy face. He gave the two curious looks.

"Have you anything to say before I announce your sentence, Mr. Tetch?" the judge asked.

"'Stuff and nonsense!' said Alice loudly," Jervis whispered to himself in a baffled manner. '"The idea of having a sentence first!'"

"Speak up, Mr. Tetch," the judge ordered.

_'You're a _very_ poor _speaker_,' said the King._

At this, Jervis brought his shaky hands up nervously toward his chest and began to fiddle with them. He stared at the King with fearful eyes. 'He's going to threaten to execute me if I don't speak up,' he thought to himself in terror. His eyes shot to the Queen by the King's side.

"The miserable Hatter dropped his teacup and bread-and-butter, and went down on one knee," Jervis blurted out, making the courtroom draw back in confusion. "'I'm a poor man, your Majesty,' he began."

The judge blinked before he leaned forward on his bench to study the blonde man more closely. "I'm not a king, Mr. Tetch; I'm a judge."

"'I'm a poor man, your Majesty,'" Jervis repeated in a shaky voice.

The two guards on either side of the trembling man rolled their eyes. "Your Honor," one of them finally said over the inmate's babbling, "Mr. Tetch here hasn't been fully aware of his actions for the past few days. As you just heard, he identifies himself as this "Hatter." He is currently receiving therapy from one Dr. Myers at Arkham Asylum."

"Yes…" the judge said slowly as he brought a finger up to tap against his chin, "he definitely seems troubled… Mr. Tetch."

Jervis snapped to attention and instantly fell silent. He stared up at the King of Hearts with worried eyes. He didn't hear a word of what the judge was saying; all he heard was the King ranting about what was important and what was unimportant and who really stole the tarts from the Queen of Hearts. He continued to give them confused looks even as he was turned away and herded out of the courtroom to return to Arkham Asylum to begin his sentence.

* * *

By the time he was back inside Arkham Asylum, Jervis was quite embarrassed and distraught. He had no idea what his sentence was… He remembered the testimonies against him, but he remembered nothing of a judge. He had managed to get out of the courtroom and away from the King and Queen of Hearts with his head, and for that he was grateful. His gratitude was short-lived and quickly replaced with fear, however, when he realized that the King and Queen hadn't been there… He had seen them clear as day, but they weren't real. Good Lord, what was happening to him?

"Jervis?"

The blonde man startled from his thoughts and looked at Dr. Myers, who sat behind his desk, staring at him with concerned eyes. "Did you hear anything I just said?" the psychiatrist asked.

Jervis simply stared at the man for a few moments, blinking. He slowly shook his head before his eyes fell back down to his fiddling hands. "…I, um…no. Sorry."

Dr. Myers smiled and leaned back. "I was just saying that you are going to be moved to a different section of the building today. You will be allowed one hour of recreation time as well as three half-hour meal times. Our sessions are going to be every day, like they are now, for a full hour. You will be given—"

"How long am I going to be here?" Jervis interrupted quietly, cautiously lifting his eyes to the doctor.

Dr. Myers paused in his rehearsed speech and glanced over at the wall-clock hanging over his door. "You have another five minutes here today."

"No," Jervis said. He swallowed the lump in his throat and looked around the room nervously before he gazed back at Dr. Myers. "I mean, h-how long am I going to be _here_…i-in Arkham?" He shifted uncomfortably in his chair when the doctor gave him a curious look.

"Didn't the judge tell you in court earlier?" Dr. Myers asked.

Oh, the dreaded question…

"…w-well…" Jervis began anxiously. How was he supposed to say this without making himself sound crazy?

"It's okay, Jervis," Dr. Myers said gently, "you can tell me. What's wrong?"

Jervis remained silent for a lingering moment, but finally drew what should have been a calming breath. "…I didn't see a judge," he said quickly.

The response inherited a raised eyebrow from the doctor, but he mulled over the words for a brief moment. "What did you see?" Dr. Myers pressed calmly. When Jervis didn't answer and looked off around his office, he folded his hands over his desk. "Was it in any way related to Lewis Carroll?" he ventured.

Jervis's eyes immediately shot back to the psychiatrist, his brow fraught with worry. The two stared at each other in a tense silence for a few moments before the blonde man looked down at the ground by his feet. He began nibbling on his bottom lip. Finally, he slowly began to nod his head.

"Okay," Dr. Myers said as he wrote this down, "how long have you been seeing things? Are you hearing things, too?"

The doctor received a horrified look, but the blonde man made no effort to answer the question. His wide blue eyes drifted over to the clock on the wall and he began fidgeting anxiously in his seat.

Dr. Myers' shoulder slumped in a silent sigh. "Alright, Jervis, we're done for today," he announced. "We're going to have to monitor this new development, okay? I'm going to start you on some small doses of medication tonight. We're also going to monitor your progress on that." His eyes lifted to the clock on the wall. "I don't think your new cell is quite ready yet, but there are some patients heading toward the recreation room now. Try to go socialize with some of them, okay?" He received a terrified look. "Give it a try, Jervis. We'll talk more tomorrow."

* * *

He wasn't sure what was more horrifying: spending nearly every waking hour alone in solitary confinement for the past week, or finally being released amongst the criminally insane. He was slowly leaning toward the latter with each inmate that was brought to the recreation room, looking more frightening than the last. There had been maybe three or four people already in the room when Jervis was pushed through the doors. No one had paid him any mind, so he cautiously made his way over to an empty sofa and sat himself down at the end.

The only features on his form to move since then were his eyes. He simply observed each inmate that entered the room, praying he wouldn't recognize any of them. He knew good and well that there were many _**very**_ dangerous people here. He wanted nothing to do with them or with any of the rest of the population that made up Arkham Asylum. He sat motionless, hoping to go unnoticed. He never had to try to be ignored before; surely trying to would help—

"Hey!"

Jervis immediately jumped at the loud voice, instinct making him shrink away from the source of the shout. His eyes shot to his left at a large inmate, who was glaring down at him with hostile eyes.

"This is _my_ seat!" the massive inmate snarled, the ferocity in his voice making the small Englishman flinch.

Jervis quickly scrambled to his feet and lifted his hands up toward his chest defensively to show he was harmless. He backed away slowly from the man as he fumbled over his words. "O-Oh dear, I-I-I beg your pardon. I'm dreadfully sorry…"

The man seemed to be satisfied with the apology, or satisfied that the seat was empty, and promptly plopped down on the sofa.

The trembling blonde man continued to back away from the sofa, his arms still hovering in the air before his chest. His widened blue eyes never left the frightening man, despite the fact that he seemed to have already completely forgotten Jervis. It was almost too much for his fragmenting mind to take—

"You're afraid."

Jervis felt a chill run down his spine at the two words that sounded from behind him. His head instantly whipped to his left. His widened blue eyes fell upon another patient, seated at a chess table. The man in the standard Arkham uniform stared at him with cold, calculating eyes and remained otherwise motionless.

"E-Excuse me?" Jervis managed to ask, squirming slightly in discomfort under the man's scrutinizing gaze.

"You are afraid," the man repeated himself, a callous bite to his words. "I can _smell_ your fear."

Despite his efforts, Jervis couldn't stop himself from making a face or keep his brow from furrowing. '_Smell_ my fear?' he mused in his thoughts. 'Lord, this man is mad…' He tried to force a smile and began backing away from the strange man.

The unknown man's eyes never strayed from the blonde inmate. "That isn't a good thing for a newcomer such as yourself," he said at length.

Jervis came to a quick halt, his smile disappearing. His arms relaxed slightly, but remained in the air in front of his chest. He stared at the man with a curious expression on his face.

The man motioned for him to take a seat across from him. As Jervis nervously did so, the man spoke again. "You're the Hatter, right?" When the blonde man's eyes shot to him, he offered a half-hearted shrug. "I saw a guard reading a newspaper with the name "Mad Hatter" in the headlines…"

An embarrassed look quickly formed on Jervis's face and he began to fiddle with a pawn on the chessboard. "I guess that's what I'll be known as here…" he mumbled to himself with a disheartened sigh.

"You're better off that way," the man across from him said nonchalantly. His eyes finally left the blonde as he gestured around the room. "It sets you above the rest of these fools locked up here. You have an alias."

Jervis lifted an eyebrow in skepticism, but kept his thoughts to himself.

"Don't believe me?" the man opposite from the blonde asked when he saw the look, not sounding at all surprised. "You'll understand what I mean in time, I'm sure."

A silence soon filled the gap between them, hanging over the chess table. Jervis's blue eyes moved from the pawn he was fiddling with to the man across from him, then back to the pawn, and then back to the man. He decided to break the silence. "…I, um…I suppose you are one of the higher class criminals here, no?" he asked hesitantly.

The man gave the blonde a bored look. "You mean you don't recognize me?" he asked, not sounding offended in the least.

"I'm terribly sorry, sir," Jervis replied, feeling subtly alarmed that he should have recognized the man.

The auburn-haired man waved it off with a long, narrow hand. "You'd recognize me if I had my mask," he said casually. He extended the hand toward Jervis. "Professor Jonathan Crane."

Jervis went to shake hands with the man when his arm froze momentarily in mid-reach. His eyes slightly widened. _The Scarecrow. I'm talking to the Scarecrow._ He hardly noticed the subtle smirk that appeared on Jonathan Crane's face when he was finally recognized. The Englishman reluctantly grasped Crane's hand. "Jervis Tetch."

* * *

A/N: So, I realize it's been a while since I've updated this story. I apologize, and I thank you for your patience. Um...I thought a court scene would be cool, especially since there is a court scene in Alice in Wonderland, so the amount of quotes available was great.

Expect to see more Jonathan Crane, but this story will remain focused on Jervis Tetch.

Thank you so much for reading! Feedback is always welcome!


	5. The Dormouse

WOW, I'm sorry this is so late. I've had a busy month...

I do not own Jervis Tetch (aka the Mad Hatter) or Jonathan Crane (aka the Scarecrow). They belong to DC Comics. Dr. Myers is mine. Quotes are from Lewis Carroll's _Alice in Wonderland _and _Through the Looking Glass. _This was written purely for fun.

* * *

**Chapter Five: The Dormouse**

He could hardly hear himself think. The air in this heavily guarded wing of Arkham Asylum was filled with the horrific screaming and maniacal laughter of the city's most dangerous criminals.

_What am__** I**__ doing locked up with __**them**__?_

To say that Jervis Tetch was terrified would have been a great understatement. He had been escorted to his new cell maybe two hours ago, and his breathing had _yet_ to return to normal. He hadn't needed to look around at the other inmates to know they had been watching him since he had entered the secured wing. Even after the guards had thrown him into his new cell, he could still feel the eyes of the criminally insane piercing him, looking into his very being. Those two hours had passed, and he still couldn't find the will to look around.

This new cell offered no privacy; he couldn't say he was too surprised by this, to be perfectly honest. There were three solid walls, the fourth consisting of one metal door with heavy-duty locks and a window. Every so often, the shadow of a passing guard would glide across the cold floor of his cell, making his rounds. The noise never lessened in volume.

Jervis's frightened eyes remained plastered on the wall, unfocused. He concentrated all of his attention on trying to block out the horrific sounds engulfing his form and pressing into every crevice of his mind.

_**THWACK!**_

Jervis nearly jumped out of his skin and let out an involuntary squeak. His head whipped around to the window to see one very angry-looking guard glaring back at him. In his white-knuckled grip was a nightstick. "Hat! Don' make me come in there an' force-feed ya these pills!"

'Pills?' Jervis thought to himself as he continued to stare at the guard like a deer in the headlights. He finally got to his feet and cautiously approached the locked door, trying with little success to block out the snickers that came from the other inmates.

The slide on the door was thrown open and two paper cups were handed to Jervis. In one were two pink ovular pills. In the other was water.

Jervis dumped the pills out into the palm of his hand and several moments were spent closely studying them. He had no idea what they were. He wasn't exactly comfortable swallowing pills in the first place; the fact that he didn't know what they were didn't help.

"Hurry up an' take 'em, already," the guard said impatiently.

"'It was all very well to say 'Drink me,' but the wise little Alice was not going to do _that_ in a hurry'," Jervis said to the guard without looking up from the pills. When the snickering turned into laughter, Jervis's eyes lifted from the capsules to the guard.

He felt himself shrink away from the guard's murderous glare. "…'H-However, this bottle was _not_ marked 'poison'…'" he stuttered. He gave the pills a final worried look before he popped them into his mouth. A quick swig of water and swallow later, and the pills were gone.

The guard brought a flashlight up and shined it directly into Jervis's face. He turned his head away slightly and closed his eyes before he squinted through the light at the guard.

"Open yer mouth," the guard ordered. Jervis thought it best not to question the irritable man with the nightstick, so he hesitantly obeyed. The guard quickly checked to see if the pills had been cheeked, focusing the light on his mouth. After a brief inspection, he turned his flashlight off and slammed the slide shut.

Jervis watched the guard move on to the next cell before he glanced across the hall. He felt a paralyzing fear grip him when his eyes met with the inmate across from him, who had been watching the entire ordeal with his utmost attention. The inmate flashed the blonde man a grin that conveyed nothing but madness. Jervis stared at the man for another second before he turned back toward his cot.

As he sat down on the old mattress, his mind wandered back to the pills. He had no idea what he had just taken and what it was going to do to him. He sat silently, the clamor from the other inmates fading into a quiet static as he concentrated on any changes that occurred within him.

He jumped again when a booming voice sounded over the noise. **"Alright, freaks, lights out!"** The wing was immediately thrown into darkness as if the power had been cut. Both inmates and guards were lost in shadows for only a moment before a dim light began to illuminate the hallway beyond the walls of his cell.

The noise not once lost volume. Jervis began to wonder if they were going to be this loud all night when he was hit with a sudden wave of exhaustion. His vision doubled and his eyelids began to grow heavy. Startled by the abrupt changes, Jervis brought a hand up to his head and tried to clear his vision, blinking furiously.

'…sleeping pills,' Jervis finally thought as his mind sluggishly wrapped around what was going on. There was no way he'd be able to fight the effects of the pills, and he knew it. Still, he fought to keep his eyes open.

He risked a glance past the glass where the other cells were, his eyes slowly shifting from one inmate to the next. He didn't want to fall asleep with all of them still watching him like a hawk, even if they were locked up and there were multiple guards walking up and down the hall.

He brought a hand up to rub his eyes. It was the last thing he remembered doing before he blacked out.

* * *

"Let's **go**."

A rough jab to his back was what woke Jervis up from the dead. He had never slept as hard as he did last night in all his life. He was just beginning to wonder how much of that medicine he had in his system when felt himself begin to fall back asleep.

" 'ey!" Another poke to his back was made. "Get **up**. We don't 'ave _time_ for this."

Jervis shifted just enough to glare up at the two guards standing over him through narrowed eyes. "Well," he began to slur before he could bite his tongue, "maybe the dosage should be lowered next time—"

The nightstick in one of the guards' hands collided with his forehead. Jervis let out a cry, half in pain and half in shock, and instantly cringed. His arms shot upward to protect his head from another blow. Lord, he must have looked like a cowering animal…

"We told you last night that we won't take any back-talk from you freaks," the guard who had hit him snarled.

_Last night?!_ What on Earth…? Hadn't he just fallen asleep when he blacked out last night? What else could have happened? He didn't really want to think about it, but he was curious, nonetheless.

That curiosity was not nearly as powerful as the confusion and fear that reigned over Jervis as he risked a glance up at the guards standing over him. They were still waiting for him to move. When one of them raised the nightstick again, he cringed and hid his face behind his arm after letting out an embarrassing whimper.

"Get up, freak."

"Y-Yes, sir," Jervis stammered in close to a whisper. He hesitantly began to lift himself up into a sitting position. When he began to feel slightly lightheaded, he came to a stop. He raised a hand to his head and closed his eyes for a second, still feeling the effects of the sleeping medicine only now beginning to wear off.

It was going to be a rough morning.

* * *

"Let's talk a little more about what happened in the courtroom yesterday, Jervis." Dr. Myers folded his hands over his open file on the blonde patient sitting across from him. He expected to see him looking down at his fiddling hands, precisely what he had done each and every time he had been in his office.

He was startled to actually meet Jervis's angry eyes in a direct stare. Dr. Myers quickly put on a neutral expression and didn't allow his eyes to falter under Jervis's heated look. "Or is there something you'd like to discuss first?" the psychologist asked in a professional manner.

Jervis felt his frown deepen on his face at the second statement and his eyes narrowed slightly. He didn't want to be in this room. He didn't want to be bombarded with questions yet again, and he certainly didn't want to discuss something that would eventually lead to him having to take more pills.

Those damned pills…

"Jervis—?"

"Is it customary for your guards to wake the mentally ill by _hitting_ them?" Jervis asked, his vicious tone masked by his British accent.

That got a reaction out of the doctor. An eyebrow raised on Dr. Myers's face and he instantly glanced down at his notes. "Hit?" he repeated, as if testing out the word for himself.

"Yes," Jervis affirmed, a bite to the word. He suddenly felt alarmed and his eyes fell to the file on the psychologist's desk. "Why, what did _they_ say?"

Dr. Myers closed the file, much to Jervis's annoyance. "I was informed that the sleeping medicine you took last night really effected you, and that you fell when they tried to get you up this morning." From the clear expression on Jervis's face, the psychologist instantly knew he was told a lie. It certainly wasn't the first he had heard, and he knew it wouldn't be the last. For the time being, however, he needed to tread lightly and proceed with caution. He drew a breath and readied himself. "Jervis, the guards were not trained to handle mentally ill patients; they were trained to handle criminals. They are here strictly for security purposes. It is unfortunate that they are the ones who you see multiple times a day, but Dr. Arkham cannot have it any other way. They need to maintain order, whether it be during a riot or on an individual level. They're a paranoid lot, the guards, but it's for security's sake."

"That hardly gives them the right to _beat_ someone awake with that much sleeping medication still in their system," Jervis snapped. He cocked his head to the side ever-so-slightly and continued to glare at the doctor. "Speaking of that bloody sleeping medication…"

"Yes, Jervis, I'll cut back the dosage for tonight," Dr. Myers said.

"No, I don't need any more pills," Jervis remarked. "I don't need any pills at all. I'm fine. I am perfectly fine."

Dr. Myers returned the glare with a tranquil stare. He thought it best not to agitate the blonde inmate further than he already was. He made a mental note to begin treatment for anxiety. They had yet to start discussing his past in detail, which would definitely stress him further. He did _not_ want to risk worsening Jervis's peculiar state further.

His mind went back to the sleeping pills. "Do you recall last night at all, Jervis?" He was answered with a single conflicted expression. "Zolpidem can cause short term memory loss. It's nothing to worry about."

That wasn't at all reassuring. Jervis's eyes finally fell from the doctor. "…they said that I had back-talked to them last night…" he said quietly. His hand absently rose to his face and he lightly outlined the raised bruise on his forehead. "Do you know what happened?"

An apologetic frown appeared on the psychologist's face. "I'm sorry."

Jervis felt himself frown and he slumped in his chair. He needed to find out what he had said…

* * *

Jonathan Crane entered the recreation area just the same as he had for the past few months. He saw a few of the other inmates look his way for a brief moment before they went back to entertaining themselves.

As he made his way to his usual spot at the chess table, he found someone already occupying one of the seats: the Hatter. Jervis Tetch was leaning forward on the table, a hand lightly pressed against his forehead and his eyes downcast. Jonathan felt his own eyes narrow slightly in confusion, but he continued toward the seat opposite from the Englishman.

"I see the medicine has finally worn off," Crane said as he took his seat.

Jervis's eyes slowly rose to the Scarecrow before he straightened in his seat. His hand dropped to his lap and his eyes fell to the table. "Yes," was all Jervis could think to say in response before he started biting his bottom lip.

Jonathan felt an eyebrow rise on his face as he kept watching the Englishman. The slight furrow of the blonde's brow and the apprehension on his face spoke chapters to Crane.

"Spit it out."

Jervis's eyes shot back up to Crane, a startled look on his face. Crane stared at him with an impatient expression. "H-How did you…?"

"I know how to read people," Crane replied. He crossed his thin arms over his chest. "What do you have to say?"

Jervis continued to stare at the lanky man before him, still mildly surprised. He swallowed the lump in his throat, drew a breath, and began. "We're…we're _locked _in the same part of the building, right?" he asked with some difficulty.

"Yes," Jonathan answered without hesitation, "along with the other costumed nuts here."

The blonde man winced at being called a nut, but continued. "…the pills my doctor had me take last night made me…forget things," he explained.

"And what did the _good doctor_ give you?" Crane asked, hostility entering his voice for a few moments.

"Uh…" Jervis tried to remember what Dr. Myers had said. "…I think it started with a Z…"

"Zolpidem," Jonathan said, surprising Jervis again. "Ambien, as you may know it by… But yes, that certain kind of sleeping pill has been known to produce short term memory loss along with a list of other side effects…" He paused to study Jervis again, who shrunk down in his seat minutely. "You don't remember what happened after you took those pills, do you?"

Jervis shook his head. "I was hoping you'd enlighten me…"

A creepy little smile suddenly appeared on Crane's face, quickly bringing a worried look to Jervis's face. "What?! What happened?" Jervis pressed.

Jonathan offered a careless shrug as his grin disappeared. "You mostly were just reciting something…a book, I think."

"Lewis Carroll, no doubt…" Jervis muttered under his breath, looking off for a moment. He glanced back at the Scarecrow. "Mostly?"

The two exchanged a brief stare, quickly broken by Jervis when he glanced down at the chessboard. "The guards went to go shut you up. I think you were still reciting this book, but what you said was clearly meant as an insult." A faint grin appeared on his face again when Jervis gave him a horrified look. "And you kept calling yourself the Mad Hatter."

"Oh no…" Jervis groaned as he buried his face into his hands. "I am no Mad Hatter…"

"You subconsciously want to be," Jonathan remarked.

"No, I don't want to be, consciously or otherwise," Jervis argued, looking back up at Crane again. "I just want to wake up from this nightmare and go back to my miserable existence as Jervis Tetch."

As Jervis hid his face in his hands again, Jonathan raised an eyebrow. He stared at the blonde Englishman. "You are plenty awake, Hatter," he said as he lifted himself from the chair, "but no one ever said that this existence has to be miserable."

When he heard footsteps disappearing into the noise of the rest of the recreation area, Jervis looked up. He stared at Jonathan Crane's retreating back with wide eyes, his words sinking in and tumbling around in his mind.

* * *

A/N: Wow, it's been a while since I've updated this fanfiction. I am so, so sorry. I've been busy with school and other things in real life. I'm in the process of looking for a new job (this one I'm at now is driving me mad). But yes, I had today off, so I decided to finish up writing this bad boy.

While I personally have no experience with sleeping pills, I know someone who did, and it was not a fun experience. She'd take the pills, black out, and then start wandering around the house. It was scary. I decided Jervis's first experience with these kinds of pills should be like this. It's going to get much worse...much much worse...

I'm not sure when the next chapter will be posted. I think I have the outline ready, but I'm unsure right now. Again, I'm sorry for the wait. Feedback is always welcome. Thanks for reading.


	6. Tell Us a Story

I do not own Jervis Tetch, Jonathan Crane, or any of the other named characters (except Dr. Myers and Marshall). They belong to DC Comics. _Alice in Wonderland_ belongs to Lewis Carroll. I do not own Disney. This was written purely for fun.

I apologize for the shorter chapter.

* * *

**Chapter Six: Tell Us a Story**

It had been maybe two weeks since his incarceration at Arkham Asylum, and Jervis Tetch was still slowly becoming accustomed to the environment (he wouldn't say relaxing…). The only other people he talked to aside from his doctor were the Scarecrow and himself. He would stammer out an apology to anyone who raised their voice to him, but other than that, he was mumbling poetry.

The Scarecrow was surprisingly good company… Jervis would have never thought that he would find himself seeking out one of the most feared people in Gotham City when he was given his hour of recreation. Even if Professor Crane was a bitter and cold person, it was still nice to talk to someone who wasn't pumping him for information.

And he played chess.

The two were in the middle of a game when a blonde woman in pigtails was escorted into the room. Jonathan groaned when she approached the guard's station.

"What?" Jervis asked, glancing up from the chessboard to his opponent.

Jonathan waved a hand toward the woman. "Harley always chooses a Disney movie whenever she has the privilege of picking a movie to play during our free time…" he grumbled. "It's sickening."

Jervis watched the woman in pigtails looking over a piece of paper with a large smile on her face. "Harley?" he repeated. He glanced back over at Jonathan, who was considering his next move. "As in Harley _Quinn?_"

"Of course," Jonathan said indifferently, moving his rook with long, nimble fingers. "I swear, if I have to sit through _The Little Mermaid_ one more time, I won't be held responsible for my actions."

Jervis stifled a smile grin and returned his attention to the game of chess. He had just lightly placed his fingers on his bishop when an angry exhale sounded.

"What d'ya mean, I can't watch _Alice in Wonderland?"_

_That_ made Jervis look up. His eyes met very briefly with Jonathan's before he peered over at the frustrated blonde woman.

Harley was leaning over the counter, glaring at the guard who had refused her movie request, and demanding that she be able to listen to the singing flowers. He simply offered a shrug. "We can't play that movie with the Hatter in the room."

"The _Hatter?"_ Harley repeated angrily.

"Oh no…" Jervis breathed, worry and subtle-panic creeping through him. His brow furrowed when the guard gestured toward him. He immediately turned to face Jonathan, who looked like he was enjoying himself.

"Are you planning to make your move?" Jonathan asked.

"Are you taking pleasure in my torment?" Jervis responded in a low voice. He could hear approaching footsteps, but dared not look.

When he was answered with a creepy smirk, Jervis let out a quiet sigh and leaned back in his chair. A figure became apparent in his peripheral and the footsteps came to a stop. He slowly lifted his blue eyes to meet with hers.

"…hello," he said in a small voice.

_"You're _the reason I can't watch _Alice in Wonderland?"_ she said, sounded almost disappointed.

Jervis continued to stare up at her for a moment longer before he offered a small smile. "You really aren't missing much," he said after a lengthy pause. He returned his eyes to the chessboard and made his move before adding "the book is much better."

"Oh yeah?" Harley provoked, putting her hands on her hips before she loomed over the blonde man. She glared down at him.

He met her glare. "Yes," he replied sternly.

"What could be better than the Disney version?" she sniped.

"The original," Jervis argued.

Harley straightened herself and crossed her arms. "Prove it," she demanded.

The Englishman gave her an irritated look before he rose from his seat. "Professor Crane, please excuse me. I have to defend Lewis Carroll's honor from Walt Disney."

"And how do you plan to do that?" Harley asked.

Jervis kept silent for a moment before he broke out into a grin. "Why, I'm going to read you the book, dear. We'll just have to make do without the illustrations."

Harley let out a laugh. "If they're not gonna let me watch the movie, they sure won't let you have the book," she pointed out.

"I don't need the book," Jervis said. "It's all up here." He lightly tapped an index finger against his temple.

As he turned and scanned the room for a chair to drag over to the chess-table, Harley exchanged a confused look with Jonathan. "He has the entire book memorized?" she asked skeptically.

"You'd be surprised," Jonathan remarked when Jervis walked off. "All he does when we're locked up in our cells is recite his precious Carroll." He paused to look up at Harley. "A reaction to stress, I'm thinking."

"Hmm…" Harley mused, looking after Jervis for a moment before turning back to Jonathan. "You're still studying him? It's been what, almost two weeks?"

"He's peculiar," Jonathan said. "Aside from his obsession with Wonderland and his kidnapping eight people, I can't figure out why he's here."

"Eight people?" Harley repeated. "How could that man kidnap eight people?"

Jonathan opened his mouth to respond, but was silenced when a guard returned with Tetch and a fold-out chair. After forcing the timid blonde man back into his seat at the chess-table, the guard opened the chair and motioned for Harley to take a seat.

Harley pouted at the guard before sitting down.

The guard turned to meet the eyes of Jonathan Crane, who glared up at him with cold, dark eyes. Their eyes remained locked even as the guard began to step back toward his spot along the wall. When he did finally turn and break eye-contact, Harley stuck her tongue out at him.

As a grin plastered itself to the blonde woman's face, Jervis risked a glance over his shoulder. "They either treat us like children or monsters…" he muttered in distaste.

Harley eyed Jervis for a moment before she leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs. "So, prove me wrong," she said in a bubbly tone.

A confused look appeared on Jervis's face as he turned and looked at her. "Oh!" he exclaimed, remembering why he had gone off to get the chair for her in the first place. "That's right." He shifted his weight in the chair and faced her. "Chapter One: Down the Rabbit-Hole.

"Alice was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her sister on the bank…" Jervis continued to tell the tale of Alice and her many adventures in Wonderland. He told of the White Rabbit and Alice's great descent into Wonderland.

Harley found herself enraptured in the words Jervis was speaking, listening with the utmost attention.

Crane remained at his place across from Jervis. He wasn't so much interested in the words so much as the speaker. Jervis recited the book from memory with such animation; he was gesturing wildly and speaking without hesitation. This was a side of the man he had yet to see…was this what he was like when he wasn't afraid of his surroundings? He had come to know Jervis Tetch as incredibly shy and remarkably quiet. What he was witnessing now was anything but. Was it only when he was thinking about Wonderland that he was truly comfortable? What did that say about his social life before he donned the cap of the Hatter? He had said his existence had been miserable.

Was this the only way he could find something close to happiness? What about Lewis Carroll had him so obsessed and make him able to come out of his shell?

More and more questions arose in the psychology professor's head. He was beginning to think that his involvement with this Jervis Tetch would last much longer than any of the other inmates he studied upon their entry to Arkham. He couldn't help but be curious.

* * *

Dr. Myers made his way toward the recreation area in hasty strides. He rounded the corner and saw the guard who had contacted him a few minutes ago standing outside a door. "What's wrong, Marshall?" the psychologist asked. "There hasn't been a fight, has there?"

"No, no," the guard said, shaking his head. "I just thought you'd be interested to see this…" He opened the door and ushered the doctor inside.

They entered a security room for that certain sector of the asylum. The walls were covered with monitors displaying live feeds from the many cameras across Arkham. There were three men in the room before they entered, each keeping a watchful eye on the different monitors.

Marshall and Dr. Myers stepped by these guards and approached a certain screen showing the recreation room. The guard pointed at the psychologist's patient, sitting with the Scarecrow and Harley Quinn.

Dr. Myers studied the screen, his interest piqued. "I see Crane is still studying him…" he mumbled more to himself than to the guard at his side. He took note of the liveliness of his patient. "Do you know what they are discussing?"

"Not discussing," Marshall replied. "The Hatter—"

"Tetch," Dr. Myers corrected him.

_"Tetch_ there is reciting _Alice in Wonderland,"_ Marshall said with emphasis.

The psychologist turned and looked behind him at the guard, and then returned his eyes to the screen. "Verbatim, no doubt…" he pondered. "There is no use in keeping the book away from him if he has it already memorized." He fell silent for several moments, his eyes locked on the screen and his mind racing. "Inform me when you take Tetch to the rec room tomorrow. I wish to listen in."

"Yes, doctor," Marshall said.

With that, Dr. Myers stepped out of the security room and out into the empty hall. As he made his way back to his office, his mind continued to turn. It had been almost like he was watching someone else on that screen… His patient was always so reserved…so shy.

He needed to start delving into Jervis's past. But before he discussed anything with Jervis, he wanted an outside opinion. He had yet to hear if Jervis had any family, and nothing in his reports indicated anything along those lines. All he really had access to was his work record, generously provided by Bruce Wayne.

He'd have to make some phone calls, and soon if he wanted to make any sense of his patient with a love for nonsense.

* * *

By the time Jervis came to a stop in the story, he had a small audience of three or four other inmates. He had fallen silent when one of them began to be escorted out of the room. Harley continued to sit with Jonathan and Jervis even after the story had stopped. Jervis and Jonathan had returned to their game of chess, but they both seemed distracted, one with Harley and the other with his thoughts.

"The last time I had someone read me something, it was my rights," Harley said with a giggle. When Jervis gave her a concerned look, she grinned. "Oh, lighten up. I'm just playing around. So," her eyes grew hopeful, "are you gonna keep going with the book tomorrow?"

Jervis smiled. "If you'd like to hear more, I'd be more than happy to," he answered.

Harley let out a happy giggle. "I look forward to it. Oh, I'm Harley, by the way. Harley Quinn, but you can call me Harley; everyone does."

The Englishman offered his hand. "Jervis Tetch," he introduced himself as. The two shook hands.

"Let's go, Quinn."

Harley made a face at the order from the guard behind her. Still, she stood up. "I'll see you tomorrow, Jervis. Bye, Professor Crane."

"Good-bye, Harley," Jonathan said indifferently.

She broke out into another smile as she was turned away from the table. She waved back at the two men from the doorway and disappeared with the guard.

Jervis returned his attention to the chessboard between himself and the Scarecrow. "She certainly seems nice…" the blonde man commented.

Jonathan's eyes lifted from the game to study the man across from him. "And she certainly seemed to enjoy your story," he said casually. "You really do have the whole thing memorized, don't you?"

"Yes," Jervis replied sheepishly, "it has always been my favorite book. I've read it more times than I wish to count."

"So you've been reading it for a while, then?" Jonathan asked, fiddling nonchalantly with one of Jervis's taken pawns.

"Oh yes, since I was very young," Jervis answered. When he didn't offer more of an elaboration, Jonathan didn't push. He wanted the blonde to open up on his own, or with as little assistance from himself as possible. He honestly didn't understand why the man was locked away in Arkham, let alone with the rest of the Rogues. He was taken down by the Bat, yes, and he had apparently dressed up (although Jervis insisted otherwise), but he couldn't find any mark of insanity. All he saw was an obsession with an author.

There was more to him that met the eye, and until he figured out what it was that made the man tick, Jonathan would continue to study him.

* * *

A/N: Again, I apologize for the shorter chapter. I'm going to start diving into Jervis's past (or what I think his past is) here in the upcoming chapters. Thank you for being patient.

I think it would be amazing if Jervis had a sort of story-time with the Arkham inmates. He has the whole book memorized; he'd be able to do it, no sweat. I also felt the need to introduce another Rogue and start working on more Arkham interactions.

Thanks for reading! Feedback is always welcome!


	7. O Mouse

I do not own Jervis Tetch, Alice Pleasance, or any other named character (except Dr. Myers) present. They belong to DC Comics and _Batman: The Animated Series._ This was written purely for fun.

Holy cow, two chapters in the same week! What is this madness? I had the burning need to write this chapter...that's pretty much the only reason why. Haha, I hope you enjoy. OH! Be warned... part of this chapter gets a little morbid. I apologize now if I offend anyone.

* * *

**Chapter Seven: O Mouse**

Off across Gotham City in the business district, far away from Arkham Asylum, sat Wayne Enterprises. It took almost two weeks for things to nearly get back to the way things were…

…minus one scientist, of course.

It was that thought that kept running through Alice Pleasance's head as she walked through the doors for the first time in two weeks. Bruce Wayne had insisted that she take some time off to collect herself after the entire ordeal with Jervis.

In all honesty, she didn't remember much of her ordeal. She remembered Batman, Jervis, and two other people in costumes in her home. The last thing she did remember was facing Jervis, who was explaining that what he was doing was "for us." The next thing she knew, she was sitting at a majestic table with Billy standing over her, staring at her with worried eyes. She had no idea what had happened, but she was happy to see a familiar face. She had leapt into his arms.

Then she saw him.

The two locked eyes, staring at each other like never before. The intensity in his blues was too much for Alice to handle; he looked absolutely heartbroken. She buried her face back into Billy's shoulder, tears falling from her eyes as she heard Jervis begin to whisper something in a quiet, defeated voice.

Even thinking about it now, Alice could feel tears starting to sting her eyes. She drew a calming breath as she made her way across the main lobby toward the elevator. The lobby was usually bustling with life; not today. The noise had died away into an uncomfortable silence as she had entered the building. She could feel people watch her move across the floor. She lowered her head, allowing her blonde hair to hide her face. Her grip on her purse tightened and she quickened her pace, desperate to get away from the people watching her and get upstairs to their office—

Well, it _was_ their office…

What was going to happen to her now was in the hands of Mr. Wayne. He had handled the situation with great compassion. He was willing to give her more time off, but Alice had insisted that she come in. She was to meet both Mr. Wayne and Dr. Cates up outside Jervis's office to discuss what was going to happen. Alice would be given a chance to pack up her desk before she was moved.

She could hardly believe any of this was happening. It all felt so unreal, like a dream that she couldn't wake up from. She was half-expecting to find Jervis upstairs, brewing the tea for their morning cup of tea they shared since shortly after she had started working for him.

But Jervis was locked away in Arkham Asylum.

Because of her.

The stinging at her eyes intensified. The doors to the elevator closed, leaving her alone in the tiny area.

'Why didn't I see it sooner?' she thought to herself. She had no idea that he had felt so strongly for her… They were friends. They were really _good_ friends. She didn't know that he…that he loved her. It seemed almost obvious now, looking back on it. There had always been little hints in all the years they worked together, but the last week she had worked…it was right there in her face. Their evening together…

She pushed her thoughts from her head when she reached her floor. She needed to remain calm…calm and collected. If Mr. Wayne saw her still getting this emotional, he would surely send her home. She couldn't stand another day inside her home, being smothered by Billy and being bombarded with phone calls about her welfare and cursing Jervis for what he did.

Should she be cursing him for what he did? According to the police reports, he had kidnapped her and a number of other people. He fought the Batman to protect her… He had done _everything_ because of her.

He was inside Arkham Asylum because of her.

When she did get some time alone away from Billy, she had called over to the asylum. She didn't know why she was doing it, but she felt like it was the right thing to do. Jervis didn't belong in Arkham, no matter what Billy or the police said. Arkham was for people like the Joker…_not _Jervis. She wanted to talk to him. She wanted to ask him questions that had been plaguing her since that night.

She wanted to see him.

But each time she called, they would deny her requests. _"He's still far too dangerous,"_ they would say. To hear them describing Jervis as dangerous was heartbreaking. Each time she ended her call with the asylum, she would break into tears.

She blinked back the tears that threatened to fall as she stepped off the elevator. A shaky breath later, and she began to step down the same hall she had walked through almost every morning for the past couple years.

Mr. Wayne and Dr. Cates were both standing outside the door to Alice's and Jervis's workspace. They had been talking in hushed voices when Alice had turned the corner, but they both fell silent upon seeing her.

Alice forced a smile to her lips as she approached them. "Mr. Wayne…Dr. Cates," she said in greeting, trying (and knowing she was utterly failing) to sound cheerful.

A sad smile crept onto Bruce Wayne's face. "Hello, Miss Pleasance," he said gently. "Dr. Cates and I were just talking." He turned to Dr. Cates for a moment as if for support. She stood rigidly, looking exactly the same as before the kidnapping.

He returned his eyes to Alice. "We're going to shut down this project for now. Dr. Cates will take a supervisor position that will be opening up by the end of the month. You, Miss Pleasance, have a few choices open to you. They are all secretary positions in different departments in this building. I'll let you take your pick, if you are positive that you wish to stay with us."

Alice nodded and brushed a lock of blonde hair over her shoulder. "I'm sure," she said softly.

Bruce Wayne smiled again. "Alright. Each of these positions will have you working with other people, so you won't be alone. Everyone I've talked to are really looking forward to working with you, when you are ready to decide."

"I can start today," Alice replied.

Dr. Cates huffed behind Wayne. "I should hope so. Two weeks off seems like _plenty_ of time to get over this little event."

As Alice hung her head, Bruce turned and shot the red head an incredulous look. _"You_ weren't the target of his crimes, Dr. Cates," he remarked in a cold tone. "Please excuse us."

The red head supervisor looked shocked at Wayne's comment, but quickly regained her composure. She turned on her heel and strode off down the hall, leaving Alice alone with Mr. Wayne.

"I do apologize, Miss Pleasance," Bruce said to the blonde, looking down at her. "We are not all built so strongly as Dr. Cates…" When Alice returned his gaze, he smiled. "You won't be working for her anymore, either."

That brought a smile to her face, albeit a small, subtle one.

Deciding to catch her with her spirits somewhat lifted, Bruce gestured toward the door. "You can go ahead and get your things together, if you'd like. I'll be right out here if you need me, okay?"

Alice stared at the door with nervous eyes. She forced herself to nod.

Bruce opened the door and stood aside. "I'll be right out here," he said again.

"Thank you, Mr. Wayne," Alice said quietly. She slowly moved into her and Jervis's office space and closed the door behind her.

Her work area looked almost exactly as she had left it. A thin layer of dust seemed to have settled across the surfaces, but besides that, it was just the same. She looked around the room, caught in all the wonderful memories she had in this little workspace. She loved working back here with Jervis; she wouldn't have given it up for the world.

She stepped lightly toward her desk, still taking in the environment. Her hand unconsciously went to the picture frame on the surface. It was the photo of her and Billy together. Her eyes strayed to the single drop of blood on the glass cover…Jervis's blood…

Alice carefully put the frame back down on the desk as her eyes wandered to the closed laboratory door. He had fled into his lab after he saw the picture…

She found herself staring at the door with a burning curiosity. She didn't know why she wanted to go in there so badly all of the sudden, but she did. After stealing a quick peek over her shoulder at the door behind her, she made her way to the closed threshold. She laid her trembling hand on the doorknob and turned.

As soon as the door opened, Alice was immediately surrounded in the stench of death. She coughed and took a startled step back. Two weeks…had no one been in his lab this entire time?

Her mind instantly displayed the image of the white lab mice Jervis had kept over the past few months. Oh dear…two weeks had gone by… Despite the morbid smell, Alice dashed into the lab. She noticed the roses scattered around by the waste basket by his desk…the pedals had turned black with decay. She paused momentarily to stare at the dying roses, it dawning on her that those roses must have been for her…

She pushed that aside and locked her eyes on the mouse cage across the lab. She hastily made her way to it, the noxious smell growing stronger with each step. There was a cloth cover over the glass cage, the same covering Jervis placed over the cage at the end of each workday. The cover looked undisturbed.

Bracing herself, she pulled back the sheet. Almost immediately, the stench worsened. She brought a sleeve up to cover her nose before she gasped.

Two weeks, these poor mice had been without food or water. They could have only lasted so long…

Alice stared down at the decomposing animals with depressed and horrified eyes. Jervis would be heartbroken if he knew what had become of his lab pets… He took such good care of them, despite them being lab animals. She found three corpses of the mice, each curled into a tiny ball in a corner of the cage. She scanned the cage for the fourth and found him in the opposite corner, all alone.

Her eyes widened when she saw it slowly lift its nose up toward her. It was still alive…but just barely. The poor thing looked incredibly weak and appeared like it could succumb to death at any given minute.

Alice frantically searched the lab for another container and the mouse bedding. She quickly created a little habitat for the starving animal and carefully scooped the animal into the new cage. She grabbed the water and food bowl from the other cage and filled them both. With the cage in hand, she began to flee from the lab. As she raced toward the door, her eyes caught sight of the poster hanging to the right of the doorway.

Her eyes locked on the image of the Hatter, and tears raced to her eyes. She wasn't looking at a fictional character…she saw Jervis.

A sob escaped her before she dashed out of his laboratory. She slammed the door behind her, tears streaming down her face. She took a deep gulp of the fresh air, trying to stop the tears.

"Alice?" came Mr. Wayne's voice from outside the door. He opened the door and stepped into the room. He came to a stop when he saw her leaning against the lab door with a large glass container in her hands. Even from across the room, he could see the wetness on her cheeks. "Are you…?"

"This one is still alive," Alice said, rushing over to her desk. She put the container on the surface and turned her back on Mr. Wayne to dry her face and eyes. When she turned back around, Bruce was staring down at the mouse on the table with a furrowed brow. "Has no one been in here since…?"

"No," Bruce said in a low voice before she could finish. He shot Alice a concerned look. "I didn't even realize he had lab mice…"

Alice took a seat at her desk and dipped a finger into the water bowl. She brought the clinging water drop over to the weak mouse. "Three of the poor things are dead…" she said in a quivering voice.

The mouse gazed wearily at the drop of water, but slowly began to lick the droplet from Alice's finger. Alice brought her other hand up and laid her fingers across her forehead, watching the little white animal with watery eyes.

"Alice," Mr. Wayne began hesitantly, "why did you go in there?"

The blonde woman bit her bottom lip and her brow furrowed. "I don't know," she said in a strained voice as tears began to run down her face again. "I-I'm so worried about him, Mr. Wayne. He's in Arkham…th-they are saying he's dangerous! T-That he's crazy! I just want to see him…see if he's alright…" She looked up at Bruce. "They aren't telling me anything…they won't let me talk to him…won't let me see him."

Her head bowed and she closed her eyes. "He's locked up because of me…locked up with people like the Joker and Two-Face…" She drew a shaky breath. "Jervis isn't like them! He's…he's my friend. He's not the monster everyone is saying he is. I don't care if you call me crazy for saying it, Mr. Wayne, but I miss him. I want to see him."

The air between them was filled only with Alice's quivering breathing. "I don't think it sounds crazy at all, Alice," Bruce replied softly after a beat of silence. "I know you two had worked together for a long time… I honestly don't think you _drove_ him crazy, Alice…" He paused when the blonde woman with a tear-soaked face peered up at him. "He's just crazy _about_ you. You can't help that."

As she looked back to the mouse, he laid a reassuring hand lightly on her shoulder. "I'm sure the only reason they're not allowing him visitors right now is because he's still getting accustomed to Arkham. He's getting help now, Alice, and he'll get better so long as he's there."

"I hope so…" Alice murmured to herself, her eyes looking distant. "I really do hope so."

Mr. Wayne gave her shoulder a pat before he lifted his hand away from her. "If you'd like, I can pack up your desk for you. I don't think you should stay today…" Alice nodded uneasily. His eyes strayed from her to the little white animal. "Go on home, Miss Pleasance. That little fella' needs you more than we do today. I'll meet with you tomorrow about where you will be relocated to."

Alice nodded again. "…Thank you for being so nice, Mr. Wayne…" she said quietly. "You really are too kind."

A scant smile appeared on his face. "If there is anything else I can help you with, please don't hesitate to ask."

The blonde woman remained motionless, her eyes locked on the furry white animal. Her feelings of guilt did not disappear, despite Mr. Wayne's kind words. It was true…Jervis _was_ in Arkham Asylum because of her. She had driven him mad.

* * *

Back in Arkham Asylum, Dr. Myers hung up his telephone. He had just finished leaving a message on an answering machine. He now leaned back in his chair, his eyes drifting up to the wall clock above his door. He wasn't scheduled to meet with another patient for another hour…

Heaving a sigh, the psychologist closed the near-empty patient file sitting on his desk. He wanted a basic outline of the man's past…_something_ to work with. With no information about Jervis's family, Dr. Myers had to go with the next best thing.

A co-worker.

He hoped that his message to Alice Pleasance wasn't too soon after the whole event to stress her further…but he needed to start analyzing Jervis and his peculiar state. He only hoped that she would know something about the man whom she had worked with for years…the same man who had kidnapped her and turned her world upside down.

* * *

A/N: Okay, I really felt the need to take a step out of Arkham for a moment to take care of this nagging at my head. After "Mad as a Hatter," we don't see anything of Alice again in the cartoon. I don't think she just lived happily ever after with her precious Billy. I don't see her as the type to hate Jervis for what he did to her. The two were friends...and it wasn't hatred in her eyes at the end of that episode; it was betrayal. He betrayed that friendship they had, and it's heartbreaking.

Also, I love Jervis's mice. I really do...but if Alice was given time off after the whole ordeal (and I would imagine she would have had some time off), no one would have looked in on the mice. Creatures can live only so long without food or water. I felt horrible for killing them, but I wanted a more realistic and morbid chapter. Chapter Six seemed...oh, I don't know, kind of silly. As happy as I am to be giving Jervis another friend, I wanted to come back down and write something dark.

Anyway, I hope I wrote Alice in character. I believe she would be feeling this way. I don't think she'd just forget Jervis and go on with her life. The two worked together for years, after all. They were great friends. I'd imagine she'd want to see him, despite what Billy would say.

And Dr. Cates is a bitch. Haha, she is also another character I love to hate.

Well, I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks for reading and feedback is always welcome!


	8. A Pleasant Talk

I do not own Jervis Tetch (aka the Mad Hatter), Jonathan Crane (aka The Scarecrow), Harley Quinn, or Alice Pleasance. They belong to DC Comics and _Batman: The Animated Series._ All other named characters (except for Dr. Robert Myers) belong to DC Comics. Quotes are from Lewis Carroll's Alice in Wonderland. This was written purely for fun.

* * *

**Chapter Eight: A Pleasant Talk**

Recreation time came again. Jervis found himself telling more of the tales of his beloved story to a small group of Arkham inmates while playing a game of chess with the Scarecrow. Never in his wildest thoughts would he have ever imagined himself in his position today, but there he was.

He found himself more relaxed than he had been the previous day. The anxiety medicine that Dr. Myers had started him on recently was starting to take effect, finally allowing the blonde man to feel less tense and slowly start to open up more. He was still very reluctant to discuss his time before Wayne Enterprises or the events that had brought him to Arkham in the first place.

Now, however, he was lost in the words of Lewis Carroll that rolled off his tongue to entertain the eager ears of Harley Quinn and the other nameless inmates who just wanted something new to do. He felt alive when he was thinking of Carroll.

"'I shall do nothing of the sort,' said the Mouse, getting up and walking away," Jervis recited. He paused to make a move on the chessboard before he continued. "'You insult me by talking such nonsense!'"

As Tetch continued to tell the tale of the Mouse, Dr. Myers kept a sharp eye on the text of his recently purchased copy of Alice in Wonderland_._ He was standing on the other side of a one-way window, listening in on the peculiar spectacle. It was remarkable; this man had the entire story memorized, word for word.

Questions bubbled to the psychologist's consciousness. How long had he had the book memorized? When was he first introduced to the story? Did he have the story memorized before he committed his crimes? If that was the case, did that mean that he had planned his crimes for some time before he committed them?

Whatever the case may be, Carroll was a very important part of the man's life, obviously. Never had he seen a patient's demeanor change so drastically over something so trivial as a book. What exactly did Carroll mean to Jervis?

"Dr. Myers?"

The psychologist blinked from his thoughts when a finger tapped his shoulder and his name sounded behind him. Dr. Myers turned to find an orderly standing there.

"You have a phone call in your office, sir," the young orderly said. "I believe she said her name was…Pleasant?"

"Pleasance?" Dr. Myers inquired with a hopeful tone, turning fully to the lad. When he was answered with a nod, the psychologist smiled. "Thank you." After taking a quick peek through the glass at his patient, he closed the book and walked off toward his office.

* * *

Alice Pleasance had returned from Wayne Enterprises with Jervis's lab mouse to see she had several messages on her answering machine. She sighed heavily as she put both the glass container and her purse on the end table. She crossed the room and looked down at the number flashing on the machine. Eight; eight missed calls since she left for work an hour and a half ago.

As much as she appreciated the concern from her family and Billy, this needed to stop.

She heaved another sigh and pushed the play button. As the obnoxious automated voice began to tell her that she did, indeed, have messages, Alice returned to the end table and picked up the container holding the mouse. She lowered herself onto her sofa and placed the animal on the coffee table. She picked up a little pellet of mouse food and tried to coax the poor thing to eat.

The first three messages were from her father, telling her that he was happy that she was heading back to work and it showed a tremendous amount of strength. The next came from her mother, who told her to pace herself.

Alice rolled her eyes. The mouse slowly began gnawing on the pellet of food, making the blonde woman smile.

The next call was a telemarketer, trying to sell her tickets to Aruba. How they got her number, she had no idea.

The machine beeped, signifying it was moving onto the next message. Alice dabbed her finger into the water bowl again and held it gingerly for the mouse to drink, half-listening to the messages.

_"Hello, Miss Pleasance. My name is Dr. Robert Myers, and I am a psychologist at Arkham Asylum…"_

Alice immediately went rigid at the name of the location. She shot the answering machine a surprised look, her mouth slack from shock. They had actually called her back! The man on the machine continued to speak. Alice sat on the edge of the cushion, listening intently.

_"I apologize if I sound forward, but I'd like to speak to you about some information you may possess about one of my patients. If you could give me a call back as soon as possible, I'd deeply appreciate it. You can reach me at…"_

Alice jumped from the sofa and scrambled for the legal pad sitting next to the answering machine, the mouse watching with startled eyes. She jotted down the number as he repeated it a second time. She noted his name as well when he said to ask for him.

As the message came to an end, Alice found herself staring at the phone number. She stopped the answering machine from continuing.

She suddenly found herself smiling and she whirled around to the coffee table to show the legal pad to the mouse. "We'll find out if he's alright at last!" she exclaimed happily. When she realized she was talking to a mouse about calling a psychologist at Arkham Asylum, she composed herself.

She crossed the room back to the sofa, her eyes locked on the number written down and her smile disappearing. Alice suddenly found herself incredibly nervous. What kind of information did this psychologist want if he was calling _her _for it?

Alice soon discovered the phone in her hands, unaware that she had grabbed it on her way to the sofa. She stared down at the contraption with worried eyes.

Her eyes drifted to the mouse, which hadn't moved from his spot in the container yet. She nibbled lightly on her bottom lip as her gaze shifted back to the phone number.

After taking a deep breath, she braced herself and dialed. A series of rings passed before a woman with a bored tone answered.

"Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane. This is Brenda speaking. How can I help you?"

The rehearsed phrase ended with what sounded like a sigh. Alice felt a tremble cover her at the phrase "criminally insane." She drew another breath and spoke.

"…u-um, yes, hello," she began nervously. "I got a call from a Dr. Myers a little bit ago to call him back. …Is he in?"

"Name?" the boring voice drawled.

"A-Alice Pleasance," she answered meekly. The sound of shuffling papers sounded over the other side of the phone.

She was relieved when she heard a "one moment please." Before she could respond, cheesy elevator music began to play. She kept the receiver pressed against her ear as she looked over the mouse again. She gave the animal another food pellet, pleased to see it was eating.

A few minutes went by, each passing second making Alice more jittery. She found herself scanning the carpet around her feet with anxious eyes and both hands wrapped tight around the phone.

She immediately perked up when the music suddenly cut off.

"Thank you for holding. This is Dr. Myers."

* * *

The story had been cut short early when one of the inmates began to get escorted back to his cell. Like yesterday, the other inmates had gone back to what they had been doing and Harley remained with Jervis and Crane. She watched their chess game with uninterested eyes and kept chatting with the blonde man.

"It sure was kind of ya to stop your story when he was taken back to his cell," Harley commented in a conversational tone.

Jervis offered a shy smile at her words and turned his eyes to a black pawn sitting on the table before him. "The chap looked interested…I couldn't just keep going."

Harley grinned wide and leaned forward in her chair. "You're so nice!" she squealed. "What could you have possibly done to get thrown in here?"

The smile on the Englishman's face instantly faded and his eyes saddened. It was unsettling just how quickly he had gone from chatty to depressed. Jonathan's eyes lifted from the chessboard to his opponent, his interest piqued. Jervis had told him a little bit about his crimes, but it was never in detail. Jonathan shifted in his seat and watched the blonde man with analytical eyes.

"Something horrible," Jervis disclosed in a quiet voice.

"Did you kill someone?" Jonathan asked in a casual tone, already fully aware of the answer.

Jervis immediately sat straight and locked eyes with the auburn-haired man across from him. "Certainly not!" Jervis answered hastily.

Harley laughed and waved her hand. "Gee, you made it sound like you're a serial killer or something!"

When Jervis shot her an alarmed look, Jonathan spoke up. "Your crimes pale in comparison to ours, is what she means. What you did isn't that bad."

The blonde man looked back and forth from Harley and Jonathan with disturbed eyes. He sighed, remembering where exactly he was and the company he kept nowadays.

"So, whadd'ya do?" Harley pressed, sounding like a teenage girl eager to hear some hot gossip.

Jervis fiddled with the pawn, his sandy hair falling over his eyes. "…I…I kidnapped a handful of people…" he confessed with a strained voice.

The dramatic gasp that escaped from Harley didn't make him turn. "You?" Harley asked in a scandalous tone. When he nodded, a confused look appeared on her face. "How? I don't mean to insult ya', but you ain't no Croc."

Jervis swallowed the lump in his throat, keeping his eyes locked resolutely to the chessboard. "I used my mind control circuitry…"

"Mind control?" both Jonathan and Harley repeated in unison.

The Englishman's eyes lifted at their exclamation, looking briefly at both of them. They both stared back at him, waiting for an explanation. "I am a scientist…or I was," he reflected sadly.

"Tetch," Jonathan said sternly, bringing the man's blue eyes to him. "Even if I am here, I am still a psychologist. The same goes for you."

A beat passed before a small smile appeared on Jervis's face. He turned to look at Harley. "I am a scientist," he corrected himself. "Before…this," he gestured toward the center of the room, "I worked at Wayne Enterprises. I suppose my college thesis on using microchips to enhance the brain's potential interested Mr. Wayne back years ago. Anyway, it took years, but I stumbled upon a way to control the brain." He paused to lift a finger. "Now, I tested this for a while on mice before I began to make circuitry with the power to control a human brain."

"So you just up and kidnapped a bunch of people?" Harley asked.

"No, no," Jervis said, shaking his head. "I, um…" he bit his bottom lip and an expression of sorrow crept back onto his face. "No…I tested it around Gotham first. Nothing extravagant…" A sad smile appeared. "…but it did help during my evening with her…"

At the last word, Harley's face lit up. "Her?" she repeated, drawing the word out. When the sadness began to fade from his face, Harley squealed. "Aww, that's adorable! What's her name?"

A dreamy quality appeared in Jervis's eyes as he looked off past Harley at nothing. "Alice…" he answered in a sigh, completely love-struck.

* * *

"Ah, Miss Pleasance," Dr. Myers said into his telephone, "thank you for returning my call."

Alice gripped her phone with both hands, her eyes locked on the coffee table. "I-It's not a problem," she said into the receiver.

Dr. Myers shifted in his seat slightly, tapping his pen against his patient's near-empty file. "Miss Pleasance, I am going to apologize to you now if it is too soon after your ordeal to be discussing what I need to ask you, so if you don't wish to discuss this now, I completely understand." He paused a beat. "I need to ask you a few questions about Jervis Tetch."

"Is he alright?" Alice asked in a hasty and worried tone.

The psychologist in Arkham felt a brow lift on his face. It was very rare that someone called the asylum asking about the welfare of the inmates. "Yes, Miss Pleasance, he's fine."

Alice felt like the weight of the world had been lifted off her shoulders. She heaved a relieved sigh as she sunk back into the sofa she was seated on. "Oh, thank goodness…" she finally said. "No one has been telling me anything about him."

'So she really had been calling the asylum…' Dr. Myers thought to himself.

The blonde woman perked up on the sofa. "C-Can I see him?" she asked suddenly.

"I don't think that is such a good idea at this time, ma'am," the psychologist replied. He could almost hear the excitement in the woman deflate at the denial over the phone. He pressed forward. "Miss Pleasance, do you have time now to discuss this?"

"Oh, yes, of course," Alice responded. She grew hesitant. "…what exactly do you need to know?"

Dr. Myers readied his notepad and his pen, shifting the phone to his other ear. "Firstly, do you know if he has any family?"

Alice found herself beginning to tremble slightly. Thinking about him was one thing; talking about him to his psychologist was quite another. "Um…" She tried to remember back to any mentions of her former employer's family. "It wasn't something he discussed often," she admitted. "I only really heard something about it when his mother passed away a few years ago."

The pen scribbled that note down. "What did he tell you?" the doctor asked.

Alice suddenly felt incredibly guilty. "…why do you need this information from me?" she asked in a small voice.

Dr. Myers looked up from his notes, his eyes settling on the bookshelf across the room. "There is so little information on him, Miss Pleasance," he began. "All I have to work with as background information is what Mr. Wayne sent over. I need to get as much information about his past as I can, and…you seemed to be closest to him."

"Can't you just ask him?" Alice questioned, uncomfortable with the doctor's last statement. She felt like she was betraying her employer, her friend, by talking to this man…his doctor.

"I did," Dr. Myers replied. "He is very reluctant to talk with me about the subject. I can't begin to treat him properly until he tells me about it." He paused briefly. "I'm just trying to get a better understanding of him, Miss Pleasance."

Alice's eyes strayed to the mouse on the coffee table before her and didn't respond.

"What was he like at work?" Dr. Myers asked, changing gears.

The blonde woman leaned back on the sofa. "He was always really quiet and a little awkward…" she answered slowly. She smiled to herself as she added "…but always so nice. He kept to himself in his lab most days, but he would come out when I came in. We'd drink tea together before we started the workday."

"How long ago did you start working for him?"

"Let's see…" Alice mused, her eyes coming to a rest on the ceiling as she thought. "I started there during the spring… It must have been about five years that I worked for him." _Five wonderful years,_ she wanted to add in bittersweet reverie, but she held her tongue. She was saddened by the thought of all that time with him, five years they had built that friendship…how quickly it had changed…

How long had she been unknowingly torturing the man? She suddenly felt tears filling her eyes again.

"B-Back when I started working for him," she continued in a quivering voice, "he had just started to bring all of his research together and actually start working on the technological aspect of the project. I was hired to keep track of his notes…our supervisor felt that he wasn't all that organized… I think he was surprised to discover that Dr. Cates had decided to hire him a secretary. He was really quiet for the first few days, but we became friends quite quickly. He really opened up…"

A brief silence passed before Dr. Myers spoke again. "Miss Pleasance, in all your time together, did he ever quote Alice in Wonderland?"

Alice bit her bottom lip as her brow grew fraught. "All the time," she replied. "He had apologized for it shortly after I met him; he said it was second nature." A sad smile crossed her lips. "Whenever something made him nervous, I'd hear him. It's his way of dealing with stress, I guess… He'd say a line from the book, regain his composure, and keep going with whatever he was doing. Most people thought it was weird…I always found it kind of charming…"

Dr. Myers began tapping his pen lightly against his notepad, turning over the information Alice had given him in his head.

"Are you sure I can't see him?" Alice asked in a small, sad voice.

"I'm sorry, Miss Pleasance," the psychologist responded, "but not at this time. Maybe in the future—"

"Really?" Alice interrupted in an exclamation of excitement. "H-How far in the future, do you think?"

Dr. Myers smiled. He had expected this young woman to still be quite traumatized by her kidnapping. He would have never guessed that she was worrying over an inmate at Arkham Asylum, someone who had betrayed her trust and their friendship. "I can't say for sure, but we'll be able to schedule a visit once he is stable enough to handle one."

There was a pause on the other line before she spoke up again. "Thank you, sir," she whispered in a grateful tone. "No one has been telling me anything…I've been so worried about him."

"And I thank you for calling me back," Dr. Myers replied. "Most people wouldn't have." He paused, his eyes falling to the notepad. "You said his mother was deceased…do you know about his father? Any siblings?"

"I'm sorry," Alice said. "He never said anything about having any brothers or sisters…and I think his father disappeared when he was still young. He never really talked about it."

The psychologist quickly jotted down her response before his eyes scanned over what he had written down. It wasn't much, but it was a start. "Alright, Miss Pleasance, I thank you again. You have been most helpful."

Alice looked toward the mouse on the coffee table again. "Anything to help him," she said in a sad voice. "Anything to help… If there is anything else I can do, please, tell me."

Dr. Myers smiled again. "Just keep hoping he gets well, Miss Pleasance. That's all you can do for him right now. Thank you, Miss Pleasance."

* * *

"Alice…"

Harley Quinn and Jonathan Crane exchanged unsure glances as Jervis continued to stare off into nothing with that love-struck expression on his face. In the brief meeting of their eyes, they had shared their thoughts nonverbally. When they both returned their eyes to the blonde man, the same thoughts were running through their heads, one single question at the forefront:

Was this Alice real?

Jervis had made it quite obvious that he adored the tales of the fictional seven year old in her adventures in Wonderland. Was this new Alice, the one he seemed even fonder of, just part of his imagination? Or was this his madness, finally coming to light?

"Gee…" Harley began after a great pause, trying to think of something to say, "…that's, um… She sounds nice."

"Quite so," Jervis mumbled absent-mindedly, lost in his thoughts.

Harley almost found it a relief when the guard came to take her back to her cell. "I'll see ya tomorrow, Jervis!" she said in her bubbly voice. "Bye, Professor Crane!"

Jervis finally snapped from his daze with a start, looking after Harley. "Oh, um…" He waited until both the blonde woman and the guard had disappeared around the doorway before he glanced back over at Crane, looking a bit distraught.

"So," Jonathan said at long last, folding his long, narrow hands before him on the table, "you tested your circuitry around Gotham with your…_Alice…_" He noted the growing pained look on the blonde's face. "What happened next?"

The Englishman bowed his head, allowing his unkempt hair to fall over his saddened eyes. He stared at the edge of the chess table, his vision unfocused. All he could see was Alice…his Alice…the last he had seen of his Alice, staring down at him in the arms of the Lizard. She looked so betrayed…so hurt.

He could almost hear his heart breaking.

"Tetch?" Jonathan said again, trying to get the blonde man's attention.

"…'Suppose we change the subject,'" Jervis finally mumbled incoherently, blinking back tears.

Jonathan's eyes remained locked on the smaller man, but Jervis never looked up. It was in that moment that it became blatantly clear to Jonathan Crane that this Alice was real. This Alice was no woman in a daydream, nor was she the character from a book. Jonathan had seen firsthand just how animated Jervis had become when he was telling the stories of the fictional Alice. His body language…his tone of voice…_he _was completely different now, discussing this new Alice. He had gone from amorous to miserable in a matter of seconds. No, the fictional Alice couldn't illicit such a state from him.

This was the reason for him being here. He wasn't suffering from a broken mind…he was suffering from a broken heart.

* * *

A/N: So, I reintroduced Alice in Chapter 7 to have this phone call happen here. Jervis's past is coming up in the next chapter, and it will be a doozy. I am also going to start working more with the B:TAS timeline, according to the episode order. Expect to see something familiar pretty soon.

With how obsessed Jervis is with Lewis Carroll's Alice, I can easily imagine people thinking Alice Pleasance isn't real in Arkham, for those who don't know what happened.

Also, regarding Jervis's past, I know next to nothing about it. I have been thinking long and hard about a good history to give him, and I think I have come up with something good. I hope it's good...I'm quite pleased with myself for thinking it up, to be honest.

Oh, side note: I am now a tea-drinker. Haha, Jervis Tetch has made me read Alice in Wonderland and now I am drinking tea. Madness, I say!

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this somewhat longer chapter. I enjoyed writing it. I hope to have the next chapter up relatively soon, but give me some time. I want to get this next chapter perfect. Thanks for reading! Feedback is always welcome!


	9. Alice and Wonderland

I do not own Jervis Tetch (aka the Mad Hatter), Jonathan Crane (aka The Scarecrow), Harley Quinn, or Alice Pleasance. They belong to DC Comics and _Batman: The Animated Series._ All other named characters (except for Dr. Robert Myers) belong to DC Comics. Quotes are from Lewis Carroll's Alice in Wonderland. This was written purely for fun.

* * *

**Chapter Nine: Alice and Wonderland**

Alice plagued his thoughts more than she had in his entire stay at Arkham so far… Jervis just couldn't shake her from his thoughts, try all he might. After his conversation with Harley Quinn and the Scarecrow, all he could see was Alice, staring at him. She was everywhere…he couldn't escape from her eyes. Even in his sleep, he was haunted by those blue orbs…such betrayal was hidden in their depths, betrayal he could see so clearly.

The next day came, much like the others inside Arkham, only he felt so much wearier. Nothing could lift this sudden depression; not even in the poetry he had always turned to in times of distress did he find some escape. He couldn't handle this. No man could handle this…

It was with these thoughts that Jervis sat down at the cafeteria table across from Professor Crane. Normally, he'd offer some sort of "good morning," but not today.

That didn't stop Harley from doing so.

"Hiya, Jervis!" the blonde woman greeted cheerfully as she plopped herself down next to the gloomy Englishman.

He mumbled a half-hearted response, picking absent-mindedly at what Arkham called a "breakfast" with his plastic spork.

A look of confusion crossed the woman's features before she looked to Crane for an explanation. Her expression darkened at the sight of him.

Jervis sensed a change in the woman's demeanor and glanced sidelong at her. He shifted his gaze up to Crane.

Had it been any other time, Jervis would have found himself truly afraid of the man. The look on Jonathan Crane's face was downright malicious, a look of brooding anticipation hidden in the dark eyes beneath his furrowed brow. Even without the toxin, without the costume, he was terrifying.

If Jervis wasn't so preoccupied with his own thoughts, he would have turned to Harley for an explanation. As it was, however, he just dropped his eyes back down to his tray and continued to pick at the mush on the plate.

The air between the three of them was silent. When the buzzer on one of the walls went off, Harley locked eyes with Jonathan. The Scarecrow returned the woman's stare for a moment before a twisted smirk appeared on his face. She felt a shiver run down her spine.

* * *

The morning had been quiet; or at least it had been for Jervis, who was lost in his mind. The clamor that was Arkham Asylum faded into a soft static in the background, allowing the blonde Englishman to concentrate on his thoughts. He sat in his cell, his eyes unmoving and unfocused on the grimy floor.

In the hours between him being shoved back into his cell and when the guards returned to take him to his therapy session, Jervis's mood had lightened only slightly. He had been mumbling his favorite chapter of his beloved book when his cell door had been thrown open, interrupting his thoughts.

"C'mon, Hat, time to see your shrink," one of the guards said in an unfriendly tone.

"'If you knew Time as well as I do,' said the Hatter, 'you wouldn't talk about wasting _it._'" Jervis paused to lift his eyes to the guards. "'It's _him._'"

As one of the guards rolled his eyes (_'__**this**__ wasn't going to get old anytime soon…_'), the other officer sighed irritably and stepped forward. "C'mon, Hat," he repeated, clearly losing his patience.

With a sigh of his own, Jervis reluctantly pulled himself up to his feet. Once the handcuffs were in place, he was marched down the corridor toward his doctor's office. All the time, he kept mumbling to himself.

He had fallen silent a few minutes before he entered Dr. Myers's office, though his mind was still far from the present.

The psychologist watched with close eyes every movement the patient made from being escorted through the doors to being forced into the chair. The moment Dr. Myers saw him, he knew something was troubling him. Real progress could be made today…

"Hello, Jervis," Dr. Myers greeted the Englishman. When Jervis mumbled a response without lifting his eyes from the floor, Dr. Myers opened the file, ready to work. "How are you doing today?" After a length of silence passed, he tried another approach. "Are the medications affecting you?"

At this, Jervis looked up slowly. "What do you mean?"

"Well," Dr. Myers said with a casual shrug, "you seem rather down today. Is there something troubling you?" He noted the uncomfortable look that crossed his patient's face. "What's on your mind?"

Jervis bit his bottom lip and looked to the floor again, his mind being bombarded with images of Alice and imagery from Wonderland. He still had the words from the Mad Tea Party fresh in his mind, the scene being watched over by Alice's eyes. Her presence was quite akin to that of the Cheshire Cat, he felt like. It was peculiar, having the two meld together, Wonderland and his Alice. Sure, he had daydreams of Miss Pleasance in Wonderland, but never like this; Miss Pleasance always took the role of Alice. Depression slowly began to fade into confusion. Why was this the image his mind was producing?

As the Englishman pondered this in his mind, Dr. Myers abandoned his question and had started rereading the notes that he had taken from his phone call with Miss Pleasance. He looked up at his patient and quickly recognized the glossy look in his eyes. He was lost in his thoughts again. My, how easily this man seemed to be distracted…

Dr. Myers fiddled with his pen for a moment. He needed to start this discussion somehow. He had been debating with himself on how to begin this session and had never quite come to a solid conclusion.

He looked down at his notes again, his eyes coming to rest on the title of Carroll's infamous book in his hasty handwriting. He felt himself straighten slightly when an idea hit him. He glanced back at Jervis for a moment before he opened a drawer to his desk. "Jervis," he began slowly.

At the mention of his name, the blonde man looked up. His eyebrows shot upward when he saw a very familiar book in his doctor's hands. After a moment of staring at the book in shock, his eyes twitched over to Dr. Myers. "Why…?" The words wouldn't come to him to express his intensely perplexed thoughts.

Dr. Myers laid the book down on his desk, biting back a small smile as he watched his patient's eyes follow the book. "This is a very important part of your life, Jervis," he said. "I'm still trying to get an understanding of you, Mr. Tetch, and it seemed like the first step would be to read Alice in Wonderland." He paused as his own eyes drifted down to the piece of literature. "I've heard that you have been reciting it from memory during your recreation time, verbatim, no less. That's quite a feat, not something one just happens to be able to do." His eyes lifted back up to the Englishman. "It must have taken years to memorize."

"Indeed," Jervis replied in a distracted voice, still eyeing the novel.

His eyes shot up to the psychologist when he scooted the book closer to him. Jervis's eyes darted between the text and the doctor before resting on Dr. Myers in an unsure stare. When the doctor nodded and made a single-handed gesture toward the book and his patient, Jervis drew a nervous breath. He gingerly picked up the book, running a shackled hand over the cover.

"When were you first introduced to Lewis Carroll?" Dr. Myers asked, studying the man across from him with analytical eyes.

Jervis continued to stare down at the novel in his hands, feeling a strange sense of ease cover him. "I don't remember exactly," he said in a small, nostalgic tone, "but I was very young when I first heard the story."

As he flipped the book open to a random page and stared at the illustration, Dr. Myers scribbled down his response. "You read it at a young age, then?" he asked.

The Englishman shook his head, his eyes never straying away from the drawing of the Duchess standing next to Alice, who was holding a flamingo. "No," he said, "my mother read it to me."

The doctor's scribbling pen came to a screeching halt. He was stunned that his patient would bring up his family without provocation. Did the book really calm him that much? "Is that so?" he asked, beginning to write again.

Jervis, oblivious to his doctor's thoughts, nodded and made a noise of affirmation. "I had yet to learn how to read when she first read it to me." A small smile appeared on his face as he turned to another illustration. "When I was still very young, she would spend a fair amount of her free time reading. She would frequent the library quite often. She started taking me with her when I was old enough."

His eyes slowly rose from the book as he focused on the memory. "I remember her telling me I could pick out one book. I had looked for a bit and found a cover that looked interesting. It had an illustration that stuck out to me." He paused to flip to another drawing in the book. "This one."

He held up the book for Dr. Myers to see. It was the illustration from chapter seven: the Mad Tea Party. The psychologist looked from the publication to his patient again as Jervis returned the book to his lap.

The Englishman smiled again. "I remember really liking the pictures when I had picked it up." He paused in his monologue briefly to study the picture. He continued in an almost-distracted voice. "Even from the first time I heard the story, I loved everything about it…how whimsical it was, the poetry, _Alice_…everything." A soft chuckle escaped from him. "I made that poor woman read it to me so many times before I could read it myself. We were constantly checking it out from the library. She eventually got tired of the story and got Through the Looking Glass." He laughed. "The illustration of the Jabberwock frightened me terribly. Never mind the Boogie Man or what have you, I used to think there was a Jabberwock under my bed. She had to check every night for a few solid months."

"It sounds like you and your mother were very close," Dr. Myers said at length. The man sitting before him didn't seem at all like the Jervis Tetch that he had been treating for the past two or so weeks. He wasn't accustomed to seeing his patient this lively, this talkative…this happy. He was reluctant to ask his next question, but there was still so much that he needed to find out.

"Where was your father during all of this?"

It was both remarkable and unsettling just how quickly Jervis's demeanor changed. He went from cheerful and animated to timid and nervous in the blink of an eye. He shrank back in his chair minutely, his grip on the book tightening slightly.

"My father worked to support my mother and I…or that's what we thought he was doing…" He spoke in a tone of indifference, almost bordering on emotionless. "I don't even remember what he looks like, to be honest. It was years ago…"

Dr. Myers's eyes lingered on the grip his patient had on the book, a thought running through his head. "Your father…" he began slowly as he looked back up at Jervis, "was he still around when your mother first read you Alice in Wonderland?" When he received a nod as a response, he pressed forward. "What happened after he left?"

He noticed the grip on the book tightened further.

"We got by," Jervis finally replied. "She took two jobs, and when I was old enough, I started working in a clockmaker's shop."

"Clockmaker?" Dr. Myers repeated, giving his patient a curious look.

Jervis shrugged. "Well, I didn't actually _make_ clocks, per say, but I did repair them." He flipped to the beginning of the book and eyed the illustration of the White Rabbit checking his pocket watch. "I guess you could say I've always had a fascination with technology. I loved the amount of focus and precision that was needed to fix those clocks."

"And that eventually led you to Wayne Enterprises?" the psychologist questioned.

The blonde nodded, but chose not to say anything.

The doctor studied the man across from him for a long moment before he looked back down at his notes. "And Carroll stayed with you through all of it."

"All of it," the Englishman repeated in confirmation.

Dr. Myers ran a hand through his goatee absentmindedly, his mind turning over everything he had just learned about his peculiar patient. "How often did you see your mother after your father left?" he asked.

Jervis's eyes lifted to meet with the doctor's for the briefest of moments before he looked back down at the book. "She was a single working mother, doctor," he said.

"Not too often, then?"

The question earned the psychologist a degrading look. "No, not too often," Jervis said in a belittling tone.

"Is that why you cling to Lewis Carroll?" Dr. Myers finally asked.

Jervis gave the doctor a mildly confused look. "Is what why I cling to Lewis Carroll?"

"When you were describing your first encounter with Carroll, you were the most content I've ever seen you," the psychologist explained, the gears in his head rolling at full speed with his analysis. "When you quote Carroll, you seem so much more alive. Is that because you, consciously or otherwise, connect Carroll to the memory of your mother, when she had time to spend with you?"

The two were both silent for a long moment, staring each other down. Jervis blinked and gazed down at the copy of text in his hands. "…I hadn't ever really thought about it," the blonde man finally said. "I quote Carroll because I adore his work."

"But you can't deny the calming effects his words have on you," Dr. Myers pressed.

Jervis let out a mildly frustrated sigh. "Alright, I suppose I can't argue that…but you are reading far too much into this."

"That's my job, Jervis," Dr. Myers stated.

The Englishman's face drew back in a frown, but he kept his thoughts to himself. He returned his attention to the book.

A moment of silence passed as the doctor jotted down a quick note. "What did you do between your father leaving and working?"

He offered a shrug, but didn't look up. "I went to school," he said simply.

"When you weren't at school?" his doctor pressed. "Did you spend all that time alone?"

Another shrug. "I got used to it."

Another beat of silence passed before Dr. Myers spoke up. "Just how old were you when this happened?"

The silence between them seemed unending. The Englishman's eyes finally lifted to his doctor's, a thoughtful look in his blue orbs. "Um…" he began, "I'd say I was probably…four? Four or five?" He looked off at one of the walls. "I think that's about right…"

Dr. Myers stared at his patient, his writing hand freezing immediately. When the blonde man gazed back at him, looking undisturbed, the psychologist put his pen down. "And let me guess…" he said, folding his hands on his desk, "you had Carroll to keep you company?"

"Quite so," Jervis replied.

The psychologist leaned back in his chair as Jervis returned his eyes to the piece of literature. The doctor's mind was racing, analyzing what he had just been told. In the years where reality is supposed to be instilled in a child's mind, his patient had constant exposure to Carroll's nonsense with no parental interference. He could just imagine a young child walking around an empty house, quoting lines from his favorite book for the sake of hearing a human voice in the endless silence. It was no wonder why the man was the way he was today.

…but how did this lead to his crimes? Did his secretary offer the human companionship that he had craved? The answer was obvious. According to other testimonies from coworkers, Tetch was a man of solitude, with little to say and focusing solely on his work. That solitude, it would seem, reached its peak when an opposing force threatened to take his only friend, Miss Pleasance, out of his lonely existence.

He had to wonder, though, if all of this would have happened if Miss Pleasance wasn't Miss _Alice_ Pleasance.

Dr. Myers glanced up at the wall clock before turning back to his patient. "Jervis, let's talk about Wayne Enterprises."

Jervis went rigid. His eyes did not lift from the text, but began to dart around the pages. "…I'd rather not," he replied in a small voice.

"We need to talk about it sometime, Jervis," the psychologist pressed.

"'The rule is,'" Jervis began quoting, not once looking up, "'jam tomorrow and jam yesterday—but never jam today.'"

Dr. Myers felt himself slump minutely at the quote, but he pressed forward. "If that's the rule, then we'll never discuss it."

"Exactly," Jervis said, a small grin coming to his face. "'That's logic.'"

The doctor didn't crack a grin. He stared at his patient for a lingering moment before he shuffled through his notes. "Alright then. Let's talk about Miss Pleasance."

The tiny smile on the Englishman's face disappeared instantly as his head snapped up and his eyes shot to the psychologist, conflicting emotions clearly evident in the blue orbs. The prominent emotion on his face was terror.

"…I-I'd _really_ rather not," Jervis finally managed to stammer.

"I'm curious, Jervis," Dr. Myers continued nonchalantly, his eyes drifting down to his notes again, "were you interested in Miss Pleasance solely because her name is Alice?"

"Certainly not!" Jervis promptly denied, the fear being replaced with impassioned anger. The harsh rebuttal made Dr. Myers abruptly look back up at Jervis. "I'll have you know, _doctor_, that Alice is the kindest, nicest, most sincere person I've ever had the grace of meeting, let alone knowing! I'd love her just as much if she was the Duchess or the Queen of Hearts! Those years spent working alongside her were the best of my life." The rigor was vanishing from his outburst, replaced with quiet and almost distracted narration. "She was the only one who understood me…"

All the passion in his voice disappeared as he sighed. He hung his head, allowing his unkempt hair to fall into his downcast eyes. "…or I thought she did," he whispered in a miserable voice. He looked down at the open book in his lap, at the illustration of the Mad Tea Party. Above the picture, where the text was, he saw her eyes. The soft blues that had sent shivers up his spine every time they had met with his now sent a chill through his body. Such betrayal…such pain…

"I've ruined everything," Jervis mumbled, the words containing a slight quiver. He slammed the book shut and put it on the desk. "I've ruined everything…" He buried his face into his chained hands. "The Lizard has won."

Dr. Myers continued to stare at his patient with startled eyes even after Jervis had fallen silent. He hadn't expected the fiery outburst or the dying embers of his heartbreak all within the same minute. He had never reacted like this in front of him before. Perhaps he shouldn't have pressed… Had discussing everything today—Carroll, his past, Alice—thrown him into a chaotic state of mind? Was his mind being plagued by fresh images of each of those topics, colliding and conflicting with each other?

He didn't get a chance to ask.

The door to his office opened, startling the psychologist from his thoughts. His eyes shot to the guards coming through the door before darting to the clock. Indeed, their session was over. He looked back at his patient, who was still sitting with his head buried in his hands. They couldn't take him back to his cell now, not while he was in such a state of agitation. "Wait—"

The guards were unaware of the blonde man's fragile state of mind. "Alright, let's go," one of them said, drowning out the doctor's request. He laid a large hand on Jervis's shoulder.

Jervis immediately shrugged the hand off of his form and leaned forward, his trembling hands clutching the sides of his head.

"Jervis?" Dr. Myers asked hastily, rising from his seat.

The guard, annoyed by the small patient's defiance, tried again. He grabbed the Englishman roughly by the arm. "C'mon, Hat—"

Jervis let out a strangled cry and jumped from his seat, out of the guard's grip. _"Don't touch me!"_ he shrieked hysterically. He bumped into the doctor's desk, knocking over his desk lamp and sending a few things to break against the ground as he whirled around. He stared at the asylum workers with wide eyes, gaping at both them and something else only he seemed to see.

Dr. Myers motioned frantically for the guards to stand down. He needed to talk Jervis down from this before something bad happened. The Englishman simply was not in the mindset to handle the guards at that moment.

"Jervis," Dr. Myers tried in as calm, yet firm of a voice as humanly possible. "Jervis, I need you to calm down, alright? Breathe."

The blonde man was breathing heavily now, taking shallow breaths. In his near-panic, he didn't hear his doctor. When the sound of his name was able to pierce through the chaos in his head, he turned and focused his terrified eyes on Dr. Myers.

The guards acted immediately.

The second Jervis felt hands on his arms and shoulders, a scream escaped from his small form. He tried desperately to get away.

"No!" Dr. Myers yelled at the guards. No!_ No! __**No! **_This wasn't happening!

The guards ignored the doctor's demands to let him talk his patient down, focusing on the writhing man in their grasp. They managed to release the cuff around one of the Englishman's wrists and secure his arms behind his back, but the struggling only intensified.

With a free hand, one of the guards produced a tranquilizer from his belt. The objections from the psychologist were drowned out by Jervis's shouting. The needle was plunged deep into his body with a sharp cry.

As they began to drag the struggling patient from his office, Dr. Myers held up a hand. "Wait! Where are you taking him?"

"Solitary," one of the men replied gruffly, shooting the doctor a glare. "He's a security hazard, doc. He's out of your hands."

"He needs—"

"He's _out_ of your hands, Dr. Myers," the guard repeated firmly, silencing the doctor. "You can see him again once he's calmed down; sometime tomorrow or the day after."

Jervis yelled his disapproval of this plan with increasingly less vigor. He shot Dr. Myers a pleading look before he was dragged out of the office.

Dr. Myers was left standing alone in his messy office, more enraged than shaken at what had just happened. He felt glued to where he stood, simply staring at the empty doorway and trying to collect his racing thoughts. He wanted to punch something.

With an aggravated exhale, he fell back into his seat. He began writing vigorously, writing down everything that had happened in the past few minutes and his own concerns about what was to happen next. He could only hope that this didn't break Jervis completely. The trauma from the session was a great deal to handle. If he was re-living some of past experiences (and Dr. Myers considered it), this added event didn't leave the chances of him coming back the same very high.

* * *

In the time it took the small group to reach the wing for solitary confinement, Jervis Tetch had gone from struggling to escape the guards' hold to struggling to keep his eyes open. They practically dragged the sedated Englishman into the cold space of the cell. They dropped him onto the mattress unceremoniously before they slammed the door, shutting Jervis off from all human contact again.

Jervis still had enough energy to roll onto his side and curl into a ball. His eyes slipped shut, but he was far from sleep. Sounds and images continued to bombard his mind, crashing into one another at the speed of light. At the forefront of the chaos were the illustrations from Carroll's book and scenes from the night of his crimes. He'd see the White Rabbit being chased by a flowing black silhouette, an army of cards raining down from above…Alice in the arms of the Lizard…staring down at him. Her trust…their friendship…_broken._

His closed eyes tightened as his trembling hands slowly went to the sides of his head. He drew a shaky breath, silently willing away the haunting images to no avail. "Stop," he whispered pleadingly to the deathly still air. "Please stop…I can't take it anymore…"

_"You mean you can't take __**less**__."_

Jervis's eyes shot open at the quote. The breath caught in his throat when he suddenly found himself standing upright in a world that was neither Arkham nor Wonderland. He felt like he was on the edge between the two, standing on the fine line that separated them.

_"Up above the world you fly,_

_ Like a tea-tray in the sky."_

The words echoed off of nothing, seemingly coming from everywhere except from him. Jervis looked around for the source of the voice only to realize with a start that it was his own. His brow furrowed, confounded by the perplexing situation he found himself in. His eyes began scrutinizing his environment again, trying to find something to help explain this.

_"Why is a raven like a writing-desk?"_

Jervis's search came to a grounding halt at the riddle and he sighed. There was no answer to what was happening, like there wasn't an answer to the riddle.

"'I haven't the slightest idea,'" Jervis replied hesitantly to the phantom voice.

A deranged giggle enveloped the blonde man. Jervis drew back slightly, alarmed at the insane tone in his laughter.

_"It __**is**__ the same thing with you,"_ the specter of himself said in an amused tone.

Jervis shook his head slowly. "…n-no, we're not the same at all…" He continued babbling on to himself in a quiet tone. "This can't be happening…whatever _this_ is, it isn't happening." As he was mumbling, the voice above him began to trill in a sing-song voice _"Down, down, down…"_ repeatedly.

"'Will the fall _never_ come to an end?'" Jervis recited absent-mindedly. He found himself thinking about the night of his crimes again.

As his eyes lowered into a disheartened gaze, the voice made a clicking sound with its phantom tongue. _"I can't go no lower. I'm on the floor, as it is."_

The words tumbled around in Jervis's chaotic mind for a long while. In a way, it was right…he really couldn't go any lower from here. He had reached rock bottom. If he were any lower, he'd be six feet under. He considered the quote for a moment longer before he looked up.

He felt his eyes widen.

From the shadowy mists, having emerged from nothing, were two images. To his left was a collection of Sir John Tenniel's illustrations from Wonderland, life-sized and completely real. To his right was Alice Pleasance, standing alone in the mist and staring at him.

The air went into his lungs in shallow breaths as his wide eyes darted back and forth between the two sets of images. They settled on Alice, desperation entering his orbs. He took a cautious step toward her and instantly halted.

A horror seized him.

Her eyes were vacant, glossed over and completely void of emotion.

Just as they had been that night…when he had chipped her.

"No…" he whispered to himself, slowly beginning to shake his head and draw back away from her. His mind came to a halt and his breath caught. It hit him like the King of Hearts' gavel to the head.

"They can't go together…" he breathed in terrified understanding. His eyes shot from Alice to Wonderland, and then back to Alice. "They don't belong together… They never have…"

When Alice extended an arm toward him, Jervis took a step back. His tortured heart pounded against his ribs; he could feel warm tears beginning to spill down from his desperately hopeless eyes.

As she lifted her other arm to beckon him forward, he screwed his eyes shut. "Good-bye, my dearest Alice…" he whispered in a choked voice.

It had been there before, and it would be forever. It existed before Alice dropped in, and it continued to exist _after she left._

He threw himself into Wonderland.

* * *

Jervis's eyes shot open. He found himself back in his cold and barren cell inside Arkham Asylum, still curled up on his side and holding his head. Whether or not he had actually passed out, he hadn't the slightest idea.

Not that he was thinking of that at the given moment.

He remained frozen on the mattress, his eyes focused on the wall opposite from him. The events from his encounter played over and over again in his head on a repeated loop. He couldn't explain what had happened, nor did he fully understand it. And yet…there was a strange sense of comprehension hanging over him.

He allowed his hands to drop from the sides of his head to hang loosely over the side of the mattress. He rolled over onto his back and stared at the ceiling with unfocused eyes.

An unknown measure of time passed before he was snapped from his thoughts by the sound of multiple people running down the corridor. He glanced at the door, where a stream of light was coming in through the open hole in the threshold. Somewhere down the hall, he could hear a frightened voice and the squeaking of wheels.

Jervis tried to return to his thoughts, mildly peeved. When the voice grew louder, he sat up with a grumble. "_'Tut tut, child…'_"

"Joker's got a bomb!" the voice sputtered in terror.

Jervis stormed over to the door. "_'I've a right to think,'_" he quoted in a low hiss as he reached through the hole. He threw the only opening into the outside world closed, tossing him back into complete silence.

A toothy smile appeared on his face and he clasped his hands together. "There," he said, sounding insanely pleased with himself. "Now, _'let's all move one place on.'_"

He returned to his place on the mattress, an unsettling grin on his face. He leaned back against the wall, let his eyes slip shut, and allowed his mind to take him back to Wonderland.

* * *

A/N:This chapter _really_ makes me nervous...

I know it has been about six months since I've updated this piece. I have a million apologies to everyone. I've just recently gotten Microsoft Word installed on my computer again, which was a major relief. I've been writing "Madness" in Notepad. It...it was painful.

Anyway, about this chapter. We are now into the episode after "Mad as a Hatter," "Dreams in Darkness."

Now, I am worried about giving Jervis a past. I clearly didn't add a great amount of history with him. (Oh yeah, for those of you who've read my fanfiction "Gentle Malady," disregard that for this piece.) I can easily see Jervis being the kind of person who spent a large amount of his childhood alone. It isn't that far-fetched to be neglected (unintentionally, mind you) by a single working parent.

I think our dear ol' Jervis is mad as a hatter nowadays.

Thank you so much for your patience and for reading. Feedback is always welcome.


	10. Dreaming as the Summers Die

I do not own any of the named characters (except for Dr. Myers). They belong to DC Comics and _Batman: The Animated Series_. Quotes (italicized) are from Lewis Carroll's Alice in Wonderland. This was written purely for fun.

* * *

**Chapter 10: Dreaming as the Summers Die**

"_'A boat, beneath a sunny sky, lingering onward dreamily in an evening of July…'_" The languid words filled the empty air, breaking the unending silence of his solitary confinement cell. Jervis Tetch was lying on the stiff mattress, staring up at the ceiling with unfocused and uninterested eyes. "_'Children three that nestle near, eager eye and willing ear, pleased a simple tale to hear…'_"

He had lost track of how much time had passed since he had been locked away in this cold purgatory, but from what he could gather, it had been roughly two days. His only contact with the outside world was a guard entering with food or a cup of pills. While they never said a word, conversations from outside leaked through the open door during these brief visits.

If he understood correctly, the asylum was on lockdown. Somehow or another, the Scarecrow had gotten loose within the building. What he was trying to do, Jervis never overheard.

He did, however, hear about how the Batman had been locked up, sputtering in absolute terror. The very thought of Gotham's Caped Crusader thrown in a straitjacket set Jervis to giggling madly. The guard had given him a harsh look and quickly left, leaving the laughing Englishman to his insane hysterics.

It wasn't until a few visits later that he learned about the Scarecrow's capture and that Batman had been released from Arkham. As the doctors and guards went about upgrading their security and cameras to ensure this didn't happen again, the asylum was put on lockdown. There were no visits to psychiatrists, no recreation time. No games of chess. Every privilege had been stripped from the inmates. Jervis hadn't even been allowed to return to his regular cell.

Not that he minded…

"_'Long has paled that sunny sky: echoes fade and memories die: autumn frosts have slain July.'_" He didn't mind the silence at all anymore. Why, he and Silence were practically brothers. It helped him to remember and relearn that skill that had seemed to have slipped his mind since he entered college. He had almost forgotten how to properly fall down the rabbit hole and return to Wonderland, as he had done so often in his childhood. He had been so occupied with his research, and everything after college had moved so fast. The move to the United States to work for Wayne Enterprises, working with technology, Alice—

Jervis shook his head. No, he wasn't going to think of her anymore. She would surely be happier with the Lizard. He should have realized it sooner; he and Alice were never meant to be together. Alice and the Mad Hatter bickered in the stories. In the end, it was the Mad Hatter that drove the little girl from the tea party. He had done the same with his Alice—

No, not his.

With an aggravated sigh, Jervis brought his hands up and covered his eyes. He wanted nothing more than to just let her have her happiness with that Lizard and forget her…but how could he forget that one night he had shared with her? That one night, that one dance, was more than he could have ever hoped for, more than he deserved, more than he should have ever received. Shouldn't that have been enough? Why did she still have to plague his mind every waking moment and invade his dreams in his fitful times of sleep?

"_'Still she haunts me, phantomwise, Alice moving under skies never seen by waking eyes,'_" he grumbled sadly, allowing his hands to fall away from his face. He continued to stare up at the ceiling, his blue orbs locked on a water stain. He knew it was hopeless to forget her. He couldn't get her off his mind, nor the fact that he would probably never see her again. His heart ached at the notion of it and his anger flared. It was all Batman's fault.

He found himself thinking about the Caped Crusader's few hours of incarceration, which only furthered his fury. The Bat had ruined everything. Had he not interfered, he would have…

…could have…

Another sigh escaped from the small Englishman's form and his anger quickly dwindled into misery. It deeply depressed him to think about what could have been. He and Alice could have been so happy together. He was so sure of this; why hadn't she seen it? Was it the Lizard that had blinded her? Theirs could have been the perfect romance, if only she had seen. She should have seen it. It was there, all there, for anyone to see. Why hadn't she seen it?

His mind took a violent turn from their time at Wayne Enterprises to that fateful night in Storybook Land. It did no good to think about what might have been, but what was. He had ruined the best friendship he had ever known, and was being duly punished for it. Arkham was the least of it; the constant torture of these plaguing thoughts was enough to drive anyone insane. The asylum only kept him from running from these memories. He had nothing but time to think over how he had ruined everything.

But no…he hadn't ruined everything. Things would have been different if the Batman hadn't interfered. That foul cur had messed everything up. Had that self-righteous vigilante left things the way they were, Alice would have chosen…

A miserable sigh escaped from the blond man. He could never make himself believe that she would have freely chosen him. She had made her decision, not twelve hours after their night together around Gotham, when she accepted the proposal from that…that _boy._ She made her choice, and he should have respected it. He should have—

Another wave of anger washed over Jervis and he let out an aggravated growl as he violently sat himself upright on his cot. His hands went to the sides of his head and he leaned forward. "_'__**Still**__ she haunts me, phantomwise'_!" he shouted into the silent air. He just wanted to _forget_ her! Why did she have to plague him?

Jervis looked up with a start when he heard metal sliding against metal. A small box of light shone on the wall opposite from him, and on that his wide eyes locked. His breathing hitched when he saw a shadow appear in the illumination. He was vaguely aware of the guard snapping at him to shut up, but his main focus was on the shadow and the sad blue eyes that appeared in it, staring out at him unblinkingly.

When the guard slammed the eye-hole shut, the light and the eyes vanished. Jervis twitched from his daze and he continued to stare at the spot on the wall where her eyes had been, searching for any hint of their existence.

After another moment of scrutinizing, his eyebrows slowly lowered over his enraged eyes. He pushed himself to his feet and began walking to the spot on the wall, muttering under his breath "_'…Alice moving under skies'—_" He stopped and turned abruptly to glare at the metal door. "—_'__**never seen by waking eyes'**_!" he screamed to the guard long-gone.

When the guard didn't return, Jervis gave the door a disappointed look through narrowed eyes and turned back to the spot where the light had been. He studied it for a moment, as one would do while appreciating a piece of art. "_'Children yet, the tale to hear,'_" he began in a civil and conversational tone to the wall, "_'eager eye and willing ear, lovingly shall nestle near.'_" He approached the wall and leaned against it, running his fingertips lightly over where she had been staring at him.

With a sigh, he allowed his hand to fall to his side. He remained against the wall, giving the area a cynical look. "_'In a Wonderland they lie, dreaming as the days go by, dreaming as the summers die…'_"

A lingering moment passed before he pushed himself away from the wall and he turned back toward his cot. A scant smile appeared on his lips as he brought his arms out away from his body. He stepped lightly toward the mattress, much like a tightrope walker. "_'Ever drifting down the stream,'_" he recited whimsically, his smile widening. He returned his focus to the wall once he had reached the cot. He flashed the spot on the wall a cheerful grin, shrugged, and said with a laugh "'_Lingering in the golden gleam.'_"

Jervis sat himself back down and leaned back, allowing his feet to dangle over the edge of the bed. "_'Life…'_" he mused peacefully as his eyes slipped shut, allowing himself to be whisked away, "_'what is it but a dream?'_"

* * *

"Alright, let's go."

Jervis Tetch startled awake, jumping slightly as the booming voice resonated through the room. His blue eyes darted to the open door, where one guard was walking toward him with handcuffs drawn. He could feel his heart hammering against his ribs and a cold sweat upon his brow. What had he been dreaming of…?

"Get up, Hat."

After shaking some of the odd feeling from his head, the Englishman sat up. He was still trying to remember the dream that had left him in such a state, but he simply couldn't remember. He still felt on edge as he stood up and allowed the officer to handcuff his arms behind his back. "Where are we going?" he asked absentmindedly.

"To your cell," the guard replied.

Jervis glanced about the room he had spent the past two days in. "And where have I been?" he questioned as he stepped into the blinding light beyond the thick metal door.

The guards exchanged brief looks before they placed a firm hand on either of the small blond man's shoulders. Not another word was said as they led the half-blinded inmate out of the solitary confinement wing and back toward where the rest of the Rogues were currently locked up.

The going was slow as Jervis tried to blink the light-induced images from his eyes. The guards impatiently tried to get their inmate to move faster, but failed.

One of them finally sighed irritably and glared down at Tetch. "Will you walk a little faster?" he asked begrudgingly.

Jervis immediately straightened and looked up at the guard who had spoken with bright eyes, a huge grin spreading wide across his face. "_'—said a whiting to a snail,'_" he exclaimed happily, catching both the officers off-guard. He glanced over his shoulder behind him, his bucktoothed smile widening further. "_"There's a porpoise close behind us, and he's treading on my tail."_"

The guards exchanged another look as the rhyming Englishman continued the poem cheerfully. "Have you been giving him too many happy pills?" one of the guards asked the other.

"Ooh, those sound delightful!" Jervis proclaimed merrily, breaking off from the verse abruptly.

As the blond man began to giggle to himself, the guards continued their way toward his new cell. His doctor was not going to like this…not one bit.

By the time they reached the line of cells, the little inmate had fallen silent, but remained immensely chipper. The handcuffs were removed and he was locked in his new cell.

Jervis glanced around his new dwellings, a content smile on his face. He turned and looked through the large Plexiglas window at the cell across the hall from his. Sitting on the edge of the cot was a lean and surprisingly handsome man, if not vaguely familiar. Jervis could only see the right half of the dark-haired man, but he could still tell he looked terribly bored. He also looked to be fiddling with something.

When the man caught Jervis staring at him out of the corner of his eye, the Englishman smiled and waved through the glass. The man stared back for a moment in a sidelong gaze, but waved back after a moment. Jervis's smile brightened at the returned greeting and he approached the glass barrier. "You know…" he began, loud enough to hopefully carry through the Plexiglas, "you seem awfully familiar." He continued to stare at the unknown man, wracking his brain for a name to go with the face. "Now, I know I've seen you somewhere before…on a newspaper or in the news or something."

"You probably have," the man replied, his strong voice carrying through the glass with ease.

"Really?"

"Yes," the man said, a slight rasp appearing in his voice. He finally turned and looked directly at Jervis.

The man's left half of his face was terribly scarred, the skin a strange tint of blue. The messy white hair on that side of his face contrasted greatly with the neat black hair on his normal half. His mouth was pulled back in a half-sneer, showing his teeth all the way back to his molars. It looked as though half of his eyelid was burned away, leaving the oddly colored yellow eyeball stuck completely wide.

_**"In more ways than one,"**_ he rasped harshly.

In the back of Jervis's mind, he knew this was former district attorney Harvey Dent, now known as Two-Face. Jervis suddenly knew he really had seen both Dent and Two-Face on separate occasions in the past; he remembered the district attorney's campaign as well as the terribly scarred villain's initial criminal reign. Those names, however, were not the titles that sprung to the forefront of his thoughts.

Jervis grinned wide in recognition. "I _do_ know you!" he exclaimed as the dichotomy of a man shook his head slightly. All traces of anger disappeared from the normal half of his face and he wearily looked back to the blond Englishman across the hall from him. Jervis pointed to the unscarred side. "Tweedledee," he declared before pointing at the other half, "and Tweedledum!" He put his hand to his forehead, looking beyond amazed. "Both in the same person! _'Curiouser and curiouser!'_"

Harvey Dent gave the delighted madman across from him a bizarre look. He could feel Two-Face lurking just below the surface and how angry he was at receiving the pet-name. "Um…no," Dent said in his own voice, Two-Face's distinctive rasp missing. When the blond man continued to grin at him, Harvey sighed. "I presume you're the Mad Hatter?"

"Whatever gave you that idea, Tweedledee?" Jervis replied in question with a half-crazed smile.

The former district attorney let his shoulders slump in a sigh, submitting to the new nickname.

Jervis let out a light laugh. "But you are correct: I am indeed the Mad Hatter. Although I seem to have misplaced my hat…" He glanced haphazardly around his cell as if in search for the missing headgear. He returned his brilliant blue orbs to Harvey. "I'd tip my hat, but you know how it goes."

"I'm afraid I do," Dent replied casually from his seat, his mismatched eyes still locked on his new and unusual neighbor.

He was about to continue, but was suddenly stopped when the Hatter lost his smile and looked down the hall at the other cells. "Speaking of afraid…" he murmured to himself, his words just barely carrying through the glass. His eyes twitched to Harvey. "Where's Professor Crane?"

"The Scarecrow?" Dent asked. "He's probably still in solitary for what he did. Why?"

Jervis's eyes drifted back toward the other cells lining the hall, looking almost lost in thought. "Oh, no reason, really…" he replied distractedly. "Just…I need to talk to him about something." His mind returned to the dream he had woken up from earlier. He still couldn't really remember what it was about, but he had been having plaguing dreams since Storybook Land. He didn't want to bring them up to Dr. Myers, but he wanted to talk to _someone_ about them. The Scarecrow was the closest thing he had to a friend in this—

"Hey, wait a second."

The Englishman broke from his thoughts and glanced at Harvey.

The former district attorney was staring at him, looking half-confused. "Why were you moved to a new cell? What happened to your old one?"

Jervis blinked and gazed around the cell he was standing in. "I'm not quite sure what happened to the old one. I wasn't in it when Professor Crane did whatever it was he did. I was in solitary."

Harvey made a thoughtful noise in his throat and glanced down the hall from his seat on the cot. "The lockdown must be over," he said in an almost contented tone.

An eyebrow quirked upward on the blond man's face. "You seem rather pleased about this…" he pointed out curiously.

"It means I ought to be having a visitor pretty soon," Harvey replied warmly.

Jervis stared at the half-scarred man for a lingering moment before it clicked in his head. The gloom he had felt during his time in solitary confinement began to return to him. He did his best to hide this reappearing depression from the man across from him. "…who is she?" he asked.

Mismatched eyes met the blue orbs staring at him. "Grace," Harvey answered, "my fiancée."

Vague recollections of the district attorney's reelection campaign came back to Jervis. He just barely remembered a blond woman standing proud next to Gotham's DA. A small smile appeared on the Hatter's face; she was still standing with him, despite what had happened to him. "Congratulations," Jervis said with heartfelt honesty.

"Thank you," Harvey replied. For the first time since meeting him, his scarred half seemed to lighten, making it almost gentle. "So, how about you? Do you have a girl on the outside?"

Jervis's smile faded away and he looked off. Images of Alice entered his head unwillingly, and he wished for nothing more than to forget her. "Not anymore," he finally answered in a subdued voice.

The former district attorney noticed the change in the Hatter's demeanor and he began to look vaguely guilty. "Oh…" he said after a moment. "I'm sorry."

The Englishman swallowed with some difficulty, as if he was trying to swallow the feelings of despair. He abruptly turned back to Harvey, looking unsettlingly cheerful again. "I wouldn't think someone would be able to visit so soon after an escape," he said, quickly changing the subject.

Harvey still looked concerned, but he could take the hint that the blond man didn't wish to discuss his former romance. He reluctantly went along with the rapid subject change. "She took advantage of her ties with Bruce Wayne. It's hard to deny admittance to someone when the man who donates generously requests her entry."

"Ahh, Mr. Wayne," Jervis mused. "I used to work for him. Nice fellow, even if he did hire the Queen of Hearts."

The scarred man gave the blond a puzzled look at the Carroll reference.

They continued to chat as other inmates were led by guards to their new cells, the subjects transitioning more smoothly than the first. Their conversation was cut short when a pair of burly guards came to a stop outside of the former district attorney's cell.

"You got a visitor, Face," one of the men announced in a gruff voice as the other unlocked the cell.

Jervis watched from his cell as the guards entered his neighbor's cell and handcuffed his arms securely behind his back.

The guards began to lead Harvey out of the cell. "Is there going to be a lockdown where your girl doesn't visit immediately afterward?" one of them asked the contrasting inmate, not sounding unfriendly.

Harvey's eyes lowered to the tile floor. "I certainly hope not…" he replied solemnly.

Jervis saw a very subtle expression of worry cross the former DA's face for the briefest of moments. His eyebrows furrowed slightly before he bounced up and went to the Plexiglas window. "Bye, Tweedledee!" he said cheerfully with a smile and a grandiose wave, hoping to somehow lift the man's spirits.

Sure enough, Harvey glanced over at him with a degrading look on his face, again at being called that odious nickname. One of the guards snickered and repeated the name under his breath.

A small smile crossed half of Harvey's face. "See you later, Hatter," he said with a slight chuckle before he was led off down the hall.

Jervis stared after him for a lingering moment before his grin disappeared completely. His concerned eyes remained on the hall even after he couldn't see his new friend anymore. He slowly turned away from the Plexiglas and went to sit on the edge of his cot, looking thoughtful and worried.

Grace wasn't just his fiancée; she was the only thing the former district attorney had to keep him from sinking into madness. Harvey was fully aware of this, as she must have been. Such a heavy burden on her shoulders…and yet she continued to come and help the man she loved.

If only he had been so lucky—

_"No,"_ Jervis scolded himself and shook his head. He didn't want to think of her. Not now. Maybe not ever again. Alice would stand with the Lizard, the man she chose.

And as for him… Well, he had stood alone all his life.

Jervis let out a sigh and felt himself slump dejectedly, eyes miserably locked on the wall across from his cot. He turned his thoughts back to his dreams again. "_'Dreaming as the days go by…'_"

What was it he had been dreaming of? He had never really scrutinized his dreams before. Sure, he had pondered over the _why_ and _what,_ before, but never the _how._ The depressed feelings began to lift and were slowly replaced with puzzlement over the mechanics of dreams. What made a dream a dream? Why dream of certain events over and over again?

"_'Dreaming as the summers die…'_"

Jervis leaned back on his cot, focusing only on the rapid thoughts going through his head. He needed to talk to Professor Crane on the subject. A man of psychology could help him. He only knew the mechanics of the brain; someone who understood the more abstract could hopefully answer some of these questions dashing through his mind. A dream is a curious thing…

"_'Life, what is it but a dream?'_"

* * *

A/N: Hooray for new friends! I have fairly big plans for Harvey Dent and Two-Face in this story a bit later...way down the line.

I don't know why this chapter gave me such a hard time. I think after the next chapter or two, things will go much more smoothly. I'm not sure when the next chapter will be ready, to be honest. I'm surprised I even have this. I'll try to update again relatively soon...which means hopefully not in 10 months. Sorry.

Feedback is always welcome! Thanks for reading!


	11. But a Dream

I do not own any of the named characters (except for Dr. Myers). They belong to DC Comics and _Batman: The Animated Series_. Quotes (italicized) are from Lewis Carroll's Alice in Wonderland. This was written purely for fun.

* * *

**Chapter 11: But a Dream**

Her lighthearted laughs seemed to echo across the sunlit landscape. The vast expanse of the blue sky seemed without blemish. The sun shone brightly and bathed everything in a healthy glow. A warm breeze danced across the grassy terrain and upon their faces as they walked contently around the lake, glimmering brightly.

He had never been happier. Her warm hand in his seemed to be the only thing keeping him from floating away, he felt so elated. He would have been perfectly content if they could never leave this Wonderland, forever hand-in-hand, with each other until the end of time or even beyond. Why would anyone ever want to leave this? He felt his heart swell as he turned to gaze upon the beauty holding his hand—

A loud _crack_ sounded from the distant shore. He jumped slightly, his sense of peace disturbed, and his blue eyes shot to the land on the other side of the lake. "What do you suppose that was, my dear?" he asked, his own voice sounding almost echo-y, almost distant.

There came no answer. Her hand suddenly wasn't in his anymore, as if it had never been there at all. The warmth where her hand had been instantly faded and froze. A tight grip made itself known on his wrist.

His eyes suddenly widened and he whirled around to find the caped vigilante standing beside him. The black-clad fingers encircling his wrist tightened and he gave a gasp of pain. The landscape abruptly became dark and menacing clouds blotted out the sun. Everything was suddenly cold and threatening.

Before he could demand to know what happened to her, the vigilante's grip tightened further and he was thrown. He felt his feet leave the ground as the clouds overhead swayed and twirled. An icy coldness soon engulfed him as he hit the lake. He sank like a deadweight; no matter how hard he tried to reach the surface, he knew he wasn't getting any closer. His panicked eyes shot upward.

There she was, standing on the rippling surface of the lake with _him._ She was being held in his protective embrace, as if it has been _he _who had saved her from something terrible. All of his efforts to reach the surface of the lake came to a standstill when her blue orbs met his.

He felt his heart break in two.

She was staring down at him, but not with the expression of contentment they had shared for all of their years of knowing each other. Even the expression of betrayal that he had been seeing since that fateful night wasn't present; she simply looked down at him in careless disinterest.

The darkened vigilante appeared at their side, looking down at the man underwater through the narrowed slits of his cowl.

As she returned her attention to the man holding her, he tried desperately to reach the surface. His chest was screaming in pain. He tried to shout to her, _scream_ to be heard by her, but water poured down his throat and into his burning lungs with each attempt. He was drowning. He sank further and further, despite his desperation to reach the surface and his fruitless struggles. He was being swallowed by darkness. No matter what he did, he would never reach her. Never…never…never…

_**"Hatter!"**_

With a terrified shriek, Jervis felt himself land painfully on the hard tiled floor of his asylum cell. His eyes shot open and he drew deep gulps of air. He felt the flimsy blanket he was entangled in tighten across his chest with each shaky breath he took. There was a cold sweat upon his brow and a terrible tremor running throughout his entire body.

He remained where he was for a moment longer before he glanced across the cell to the cell across the hall. Harvey Dent was staring back at him, lying on his cot and propped up on an elbow. His left side looked sinister as ever, but his right side showed an expression of mild concern. There were a few inmates around them muttering about the loon screaming in his sleep in only slightly irritated voices; being woken up by other inmates shrieking from their dreams was a norm in this wing of Arkham. The overhead lights weren't yet on; the guards weren't going to start their morning wake up calls for another few hours, at least.

Still feeling terribly shaken, but now utterly enraged, Jervis wrestled with the blanket to free himself from its confines. He was getting sick of these nightmares of Alice. If these dreams had been all bad, right from the start until he woke up, that'd be one thing. He hated the ones where they began happily, only to turn disastrous upon the arrival of the Caped Crusader.

"You alright in there?" Harvey asked, keeping his voice low enough not to be heard by the guards at the end of the hall, but loud enough to carry through two thick sheets of Plexiglas. He watched the blond Englishman curse under his breath as he continued to struggle with the blanket he was entangled in. His scarred side almost seemed to look amused.

Jervis didn't bother looking across the way. "I'm _fine,_" he growled to Harvey. He stopped his struggling and lay still for a moment, positively seething. He glared daggers at the water-stained ceiling for a moment longer, simply listening to his pounding heart and the air escaping his lungs.

When he thought he heard a raspy chuckle, his glared across the hall at Two-Face, ready to start yelling. He was met only with the black and white mop of hair on the pillow; his neighbor had gone back to sleep.

The blond man's eyes narrowed slightly and he gave the Plexiglas an irritated pout before he finally managed to free himself from his blanket. He balled up the blanket and threw it at the wall opposite from him. He crossed his arms and leaned back against his cot, still sitting on the floor and still trembling.

He hated this. He hadn't gotten a decent night's sleep in what felt like weeks, even with the sleep medication his doctor had him on. Half the time he couldn't remember his dreams, but it was easy enough to speculate their subject matter. This was one of the few where he remembered everything.

He scowled at the wall across from him. He _would _remember the worst of them…

* * *

It wasn't until a couple hours later that the guards flicked on the lights and began to wake up the inmates. Jervis had remained where he was, simply stewing in his bad mood. There was no possibility of being able to fall back asleep, not that he would have wanted to, lest he submit himself to more of these awful dreams.

His mood did not seem to improve at all as the day progressed. He had been hoping to see Professor Crane at breakfast, but the lanky man was still locked up in solitary confinement. Harley had tried to make him laugh, but her efforts only irritated him further.

His mood took another turn for the worse when the guards, after having deposited him back in his cell, told him they'd be back in a few hours to take him to Dr. Myers' office. Jervis watched the guards walk off, glaring at their retreating backs before he threw himself down on his cot. He curled into a ball with his arms hugging his shins and his back against the wall.

Of course, how could he have forgotten…? Of _course_ his sessions with his psychologist would start up again once the lockdown had ended. He had no desire to talk with the man. He'd be forced to endure an hour of questions he didn't want answered or reliving the night of his crime _again_. He was in a bad enough mood as it was; he didn't want to feel depressed on top of that.

Jervis snorted and rested his chin down upon his knees. He'd probably ask him why he looked as tired as he did, and then he'd start asking him about his dreams—

He paused.

For the first time since he had woken up that morning, his expression lightened into one of contemplation. Dr. Myers would possibly know something about dreams. He didn't want to confide in him the _types_ of dreams he was having, per say, but maybe he could ask him some of the more technical questions about dreams. He had no idea when he would see the Scarecrow again, and he didn't have the patience to wait.

Yes…yes, Dr. Myers was a trained and licensed psychologist. He was _bound _to know something about dreams. The only trouble would be keeping the doctor focused on the mechanics of dreams and keep him from wanting to analyze his dreams.

Jervis felt his brow furrow again and he sighed irritably. Would it be worth risking? He really wasn't in the mood to discuss his nightmares, but he was truly eager to ask those burning questions he had wanted to ask Crane. Knowing Dr. Myers, however, he knew that they would just end up discussing the subject matter of his dreams.

He sighed again. He didn't know which he was looking forward to less: his next appointment, or his next sleeping-period.

* * *

In the few hours that passed between being put back in his cell and being taken to his doctor's office, Tetch's mood had deteriorated further. He sat in his usual chair with his cuffed hands in his lap, simply glowering at the floor and outright refusing to answer any questions thrown toward him, let alone look at his doctor.

Dr. Myers sat behind his desk, tapping his pen lightly against Jervis's open file. He had been deeply concerned for his patient's wellbeing since their last session, which had ended in Jervis being dragged from his office, sedated, and thrown into solitary confinement. It had been a truly enlightening session, but in hindsight, the doctor felt as though they had covered simply too much for the Englishman's fracturing mind to handle.

On top of a disastrous last session, the lockdown occurred, keeping him from seeing any of his patients for a solid two days. It was now three days after Jervis's episode, and things were not looking good. He didn't know why Jervis was in the mood that he was in, but he was determined to find out.

He took in his patient's appearance once more. Aside from looking extremely tired and exceeding irritable, he didn't seem any worse for wear. He wasn't sure quite what he had been expecting when he saw Jervis today, but it hadn't been this.

Dr. Myers paused his pen tapping. "…are you getting along well in your new cell?"

Jervis's scowl deepened. He failed to notice his doctor slump minutely in his seat, as echoes of that raspy chuckle resounded in his head. That only led back to his thoughts on the nightmare that had kept him up for the rest of the morning. He didn't want to discuss it, but he couldn't wrap his head around what it meant.

The psychologist let out an inaudible sigh and returned his eyes to his notes. "Jervis, we're really not getting anywhere with thi—"

"What do you know about dreams?" the Englishman interrupted, unable to contain his burning questions any longer. His eyes lifted to give his doctor an impatient look.

Dr. Myers seemed mildly startled at the sudden interruption, quite unready for his silent patient to suddenly speak. His brow furrowed slightly. "Are you having nightmares?" he asked cautiously.

"_No,_" Jervis quickly dismissed, as if offended at the mere suggestion. "Never mind," he grumbled afterward and resumed his staring at the floor.

The psychologist was reluctant to let the subject slide, as this was obviously causing the blond man some distress. Jervis didn't look like he wanted to talk further, however, so he slowly returned to one of the many previous subjects.

Jervis continued to glower at the ground, hardly taking in a word of his doctor's questions. He had only one thing on his mind, and it was irritating him more and more. He felt his hands clench involuntarily in his lap, his mood sinking lower and lower until—

_"She turned into him!"_ he suddenly exclaimed. As Dr. Myers jumped slightly, Jervis returned his eyes to his doctor, giving him a disgruntled and disconcerted look. "What does that even _mean?"_

Dr. Myers returned Jervis's pleading stare. "Is that what you dreamt?" he asked carefully. "Who became who?"

"Alice became Batman," the blond man muttered with less vigor. His eyes returned to the floor. "I keep having these rubbish dreams, each one worse than the last. I wake up feeling more exhausted than the night before." He ran his shackled hands over his face and grumbled "I haven't had a decent night's sleep in what feels like weeks…" He paused again, his hands hiding his face from his doctor. He finally allowed his hands to drop to his lap and he gave Dr. Myers an exhausted stare. "What do you know about dreams?" he asked again, this time much more politely.

Dr. Myers' eyes strayed to the open file before him. "Well, I'll admit up front that I've never been one for dream interpretation, but considering just how, er…_distressed _you are by these plaguing dreams, I'll do what I can." As he was saying this, he pulled a fresh sheet of paper from a nearby notepad and settled it onto the file. "How long have you been having these dreams?"

The next twenty or so minutes consisted of them discussing Jervis's dreams and (to his utmost dislike) their subject matter. The Englishman gave only enough details to sate his doctor's curiosity, as he was loath to retell his dreams in full detail. Their conversation did very little to help Jervis at all; by the time he finished telling his psychologist of his latest dream, he was feeling terribly irritable again.

Jervis lapsed into another string of silence as Dr. Myers' eyes went over his fresh few pages of notes. "Well, these dreams are obviously stress-related," he said unhelpfully.

"And how do I stop them?" Jervis growled without looking up from the floor.

Now that _was _a good question… Dr. Myers jotted down a few more notes at the bottom of last page of the new batch, thinking aloud. "Well…we could always try out some different sleep medi—"

Jervis snorted angrily.

"_Or…_" Dr. Myers continued, knowing how opposed his patient was to being on medication at all, "we could try to do something with lucid dreaming."

The Englishman's disgruntled face lightened almost instantaneously and he gave the floor a thoughtful look before glancing up at his doctor. "What, like controlling your dreams?" he asked, sounding interested.

"Well, not exactly," Dr. Myers replied, wary of getting his patient's hopes up. He stood up and moved from his desk to one of the nearby bookshelves crammed full of medical journals. "Lucid dreaming is really only being aware that you are, indeed, dreaming," he explained as he perused the journals, searching for one in particular. "However, once that distinction is made, the dreamer can sometimes control how they participate in their dream environment, or even alter their dream environment."

As the doctor pulled out one of the various journals and flipped through it, Jervis watched him with unseeing eyes, focusing instead on the thoughts rapidly whizzing by in his head. Of course! Why hadn't he thought of it sooner? He had spent nearly all of his adult life doing research on the human brain, and while his research had focused mostly on the functioning of a wakeful brain, he still had ventured into what happens inside the brain during sleep. Brainwaves increase in activity during certain parts of sleep cycle, which were believed to be a product of dreaming. Those electrical impulses were easy enough to control in a waking brain with the proper technology…why not a sleeping brain?

And why stop at one's own dreams…?

Jervis was so preoccupied with these racing thoughts that he barely heard his doctor when he began to read from the article he had been looking for. It took the sound of his name to snap him from these new ideas. Jervis blinked into awareness and glanced over at his doctor. "Hmm?"

Dr. Myers's eyes remained on his patient for a lingering moment before he repeated himself. "There was a study done recently in which researchers taught subjects how to become lucid dreamers." He looked back down at the journal as he began to walk back to his desk. "I'm not sure how well the procedure would work, but we could give it a try."

Jervis's mind was still buzzing, ideas and formulas and models for new bits of technology appearing before his mind's eye. "Um…yes. Yes, that sounds like a good idea," he said, trying not to sound too distracted.

He watched his doctor bookmark the article and start scribbling in his notes. As he was writing, Dr. Myers spoke. "Although I think we still ought to start you on a different sleep medication, given that the one you are on now may be contributing to your nightmares…"

"Um…" Jervis began cautiously in well-contained protest, "could I perhaps try this lucid dreaming thing before you put me on a different medication?" he asked, looking hesitant, but hopeful.

Dr. Myers paused in his writing long enough to lift his eyes to Jervis's. He studied his patient for a lingering moment before he returned to his writing. "Alright," he answered.

Jervis tried to keep himself from grinning widely. "Thank you," he said contentedly. However small it was, it was still a victory in his books.

* * *

Now back in his cell, Jervis found himself pacing around. He felt like he wasn't capable of sitting still, not with his mind all a buzz with thoughts of lucid dreaming and technologies he knew no one had ever _dreamed _of. His bad mood quite forgotten, he felt positively ecstatic. He almost felt like his old self; he hadn't been thinking of new technologies like these in months. His new cheerful mood was only marred by his disappointment that he didn't have any means of writing down any of these thoughts or formulas or theories.

Another stroke of luck revealed itself when he was taken to the daily recreation time. He was pleased just to be out of his cell again, but broke into a wide grin when he spotted a lanky figure slouched in one of the chairs in front of the chess board. It appeared that the Scarecrow's time in solitary confinement for his recent crime had ended.

Jervis practically ran to the chess table, still positively beaming. "Welcome back, Professor Crane!" he greeted the auburn-haired man.

In his manic excitement, the Englishman seemed to not notice the icy glare he received upon his greeting or the deep scowl it had brought to the grumpy felon's face. Crane continued to glare at the blond inmate as he took the seat opposite from him.

"Might I ask you a question?" Jervis inquired eagerly.

"It had better _not_ be about my recent crime," Jonathan snapped ferociously.

"No, no," Jervis replied, shirking off the Scarecrow's snarl with an elegant wave of his hand. "What part of the brain is responsible for dreams?" he asked.

Jonathan's bitter retort died in his throat. He studied the man across from him through slightly narrowed eyes. "Why do you want to know?" he questioned, sounding both suspicious and inquisitive.

Jervis grinned and shrugged. "Just curious."

Crane frowned at the unhelpful response, but remained intrigued. "…it's hard to say exactly which part of the brain is responsible for dreams," he replied after a moment. When Jervis's excitement faltered slightly, he continued. "It could be one part, or several parts. Researchers have been able to say that there is activity in both the limbic system, and more specifically, the amygdala while sleepers are dreaming, but whether those parts are _responsible_ for the dream itself, research has yet to say."

Jervis beamed. "Yes, the limbic system! Responsible for long term memory and…" He wracked his already racing mind for the other characteristics of said system.

"Behavior and emotion," Jonathan supplied.

"Yes, thank you!" Jervis replied ecstatically. His eyes fell to the chess pieces lying before him, but he was far too focused on the thoughts whizzing by in his head.

Jonathan's analytical eyes continued to study the Englishman. "Why, again, did you want to know?" he asked once more.

Jervis didn't look up. "_'Why not?' said the March Hare,_" he quoted without thinking. He glanced up at Crane when he realized what he said. "I've had dreams on the mind," he answered properly. He leaned forward on the chess table. "Do you know anything more on the subject?"

Crane hardly looked convinced. He had never seen the Englishman this lively or excitable, not even during his recitations of _Alice in Wonderland _to Harley. It was strange to hear him talk about anything other than Alice or tea or, on rare occasions, his technolo—

His mind came to a quick halt. His eyes narrowed slightly behind his reading glasses and he took in the blond man across from him with new scrutiny. "Why the sudden interest in dreams?" he asked curiously.

A grin appeared on the Englishman's face and a mischievous spark appeared in his blue eyes. "_'Life, what is it but a dream?'_" he recited quietly as his grin widened.

Something had happened to this normally anxious man during his time in solitary confinement, Crane mused to himself. He wondered if even Jervis knew of the devious nature Jonathan could see lurking just beneath the Englishman's polite surface. He couldn't say for sure, but something had changed in the man. Jonathan began to wonder if he had been wrong in his thinking that this short blond man didn't belong locked up with the rest of the Rogues.

As quickly as the mischievous look had appeared, it vanished, leaving Jervis simply looking eager to learn more about any knowledge Jonathan had about dreams. Crane kept his knowing smirk off his face and began to answer the blond man, who listened attentively, absolutely enraptured in the psychologist's words.

* * *

Jervis's mind was still racing with all of this new knowledge of dreaming and his other ideas of technology when the guards began to make their final rounds and hand out medications before lights out. He continued to pace, feeling far too energetic to sit still for a moment.

A rapping on his cell door made him pause. He hadn't heard the small metal slide open or the guard bark at him to get over to the door. Jervis found the officer giving him an impatient look and approached the door.

"Here," the guard said as he pushed a small notebook and a tiny pencil with no eraser into Jervis's unsuspecting arms. Before Jervis could comprehend what he had been given, the guard continued. "Your shrink wants you to start a dream journal. He wants 'em in detail; he said you should write them down as soon as you wake up. No rippin' out pages and it's for dreams _only_."

Jervis barely managed to contain his glee at receiving a paper and pencil. He could finally start writing down some of these ideas. Only how to keep his doctor from finding them, if he couldn't rip out pages…?

He held up the tiny pencil and eyed it. "Did you steal this from a mini-golf course?" he asked in honest curiosity as he glanced at the guard.

The guard smirked. "Got a problem? I could bring you a crayon instead," he replied with a snicker as he started to shove the two paper cups of pills and water through the slot.

Jervis kept his retort to himself and tossed his new items onto his cot. His mind was racing faster and faster. He had work to do, so much work to do, so many theories to write down and so many formulas. He couldn't risk forgetting anything if he was forced into slumber. He needed his mind functioning.

He suddenly felt very nervous when his brain reached an impulsive conclusion. He took the two cups, his blue orbs darting down to spy the collection of pills lying at the bottom of one. He tossed the pills into his mouth, followed by the water, and swallowed.

Only the water traveled down his throat.

He passed the now empty paper cups to the guard, who took them without question and closed the slot. Jervis's eyes followed the guard as he walked to the next cell. The pills against the inside of his cheek felt heavy, and he felt vaguely criminal as he moved to his cot and discretely spat out the small vile capsules into his hand. It has been maybe a week since the guards had stopped checking to see if he had cheeked his pills, but this was the first time he actually did. He would have smiled, if he hadn't felt so guilty, for winning another small victory.

He simply couldn't have his mind in a fog tonight, not with so much work to do.

The lights suddenly shut off, leaving only the row of florescent lights in the hall illuminated for the guards. Jervis hid the pills deep in a crack in the wall next to his cot before he grabbed the notebook and pencil. He settled down onto his cot, facing the wall with his new prizes in front of him. He threw open the notebook to somewhere in the middle of the blank text and started writing.

He kept a sharp ear for the sound of approaching footsteps; only then did he pause in his fevered writing to feign being asleep. When the footsteps passed, he rushed to continue. He disguised his thoughts in verse and rhyme. The only non-Carroll things he wrote out were mathematical formulas.

He managed to squeeze everything into a single page, trying desperately not to wrinkle the page so it would lay flat with the rest of the pages. He prayed Dr. Myers wouldn't see and hoped that his notes were coded enough for no one else to understand.

After what felt like an hour, he closed the notebook and set it and the pencil down on the floor next to his cot. He finally submitted himself to sleep and, unwillingly, to his dreams.

* * *

A/N: This chapter has been a long time in the works. A fair amount of research went into it; there actually was a study done relatively lately where subjects were taught how to become lucid dreamers. Alas, I couldn't read the whole study, but the abstract was enough. Dreams are fascinating things.

Anyway, I apologize for how long this chapter has taken, but it's better than the ten month gap like last time, right? I have the next chapter outlined and ready to be written, but I'm a full-time student with a part-time job again. I'm hoping to get that one written either when I am graced with not being assigned homework or during Spring Break (March).

Thank you kindly for reading, and feedback is always welcome.


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